


The Threshold of Night

by hesterbyrde



Series: Friendship is Unnecessary [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Memory Alteration, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Red Room (Marvel), Threesome - F/M/M, Wakanda (Marvel), natasha and bucky have history, past natasha romanov/phil coulson - Freeform, past natasha romanov/phil coulson/clint barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 78,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: Bucky gave a slow, impassive blink. "Huh."A frown creased her lovely brow at that. "What?""Apparently, the Winter Soldier program wasn't the only one using memory wipes."Natasha took an involuntary step back. "What do you mean?""Yeah… where are you going with this, Buck?" Steve had taken a few steps into the room again, arms folded across his broad chest.Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. "I came to the Red Room… while you were there. HYDRA agents came to... You… you don't remember?"Natasha shook her head, scattering her red tresses around her shoulders as she looked to Steve. "No… No, I don't remember anything like that. I didn't learn about HYDRA until I was out of the KGB." She turned a freshly harrowed gaze back on Bucky. "I'm… the first time I ever encountered you was when I was escorting the scientist you shot. They… they didn't use memory wipes on us." She blinked twice to stop herself, but one last word sneaked out under her guard. "Right?"





	1. Who Stands at My Door

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! It's publishing time!
> 
> Welcome to the next installment of this series... we finally get to Bucky! A few notes before we begin. 
> 
> The fic and chapter titles are taken from two poems by Kathleen Raine; "Threshold of Night" and "An End of the World."
> 
> Updates are planned for Mondays, but I will post here and on my Tumblr if that changes. The fic is finished and I'm just putting the final polish on as I publish. So fear not!
> 
> Many thanks and much love to my faithful beta reader @kaminaduck. He's put in so many hours editing this and many of my other works. You can find him under that handle on Tumblr and on Twitch. Give him some love!
> 
> And lastly, thanks to all of you! I hope you all enjoy this little story where I explore not only Natasha's relationship with Steve but her past and future with Bucky.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Who stands at my door in the storm and rain?_  
_On the threshold of being?_  
_One who waits till you call him in_  
_From the empty night._

***

From inside the gutted factory, Steve stared off over downtown Berlin, warily watching a helicopter as it circled a small city park. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he considered his options. He couldn't look at Bucky. At the wreckage of his friend he'd tried and failed to save so many times. And he couldn't look at Sam either. The battered man both willing and resigned to follow him on whatever wild goose chase he seemed to concoct. All for the sake of a man who had kicked him off a helicarrier, presumably to his death. 

This was all terribly unfair. Steve was the one that kept fucking things up for everyone over and over, but somehow he didn't ever seem to be the one bearing the punishment for it. It was literally everyone else. Hell, he could walk into the UN, put pen to paper right this second, and this would all be over for him. He would walk free, perhaps even with Sam, and he would even get to keep his shield.

But not his integrity. And not Bucky.

There was the rub.

"This would have been a lot easier a week ago." Sam whispered, as if he could get his voice low enough that Bucky couldn't hear. He kept his eyes to himself, back to the room and gaze straight ahead down the hall.

"If we call Tony-" Steve started.

"No, he won't believe us." Sam cut him off.

"And even if he did-"

"Who knows if the Accords would let him help." He sighed, desperately searching for anywhere to lay his eyes that didn't hurt. The peeling paint. The dusty floor. The slate gray sky. But after a pull of breath, he finally forced himself to make eye contact with Sam and face the truth of their circumstances. "We're on our own." 

A clever glint kindled in his eye, perhaps a little unhinged by desperation and something akin to hope. "Maybe not." he replied after a thoughtful pause. "I know a guy."

Steve cocked his head a fraction. "A guy?"

"A couple of guys, actually. And a girl."

"A couple of… You mean Clint and Wanda." The confusion melted from Steve's face as he vehemently shook his head. "No, she's been through enough. And Clint's retired. He can't afford to do that to his family. And if Wanda gets caught? What are they going to do to her? Can you imagine? You saw what they did to Bucky." He glanced over his shoulder, pivoting slightly and lowering his voice. "That titanium box they put him in? No. Absolutely not. I can't have that on my head. I can't-"

"I've got another guy too." Sam cut him off, clearly not interested in arguing. "Remember that security breach at the facility upstate several months back?"

"Yeah, I remember.” Steve answered, crossing his arms stiffly. “You said it wasn't a big deal."

"I chose those words very carefully." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, the gleam in his eye still undimmed. A few flicks of his thumb pulled up a recording taken from the video feed from his flight goggles. Steve watched as a man wearing some kind of jumpsuit and strange visored helmet seemed to flicker in and out of visibility, all while dealing a thorough trouncing to Sam, despite his wings and his years of combat experience. 

"His name is Scott Lang." Sam explained with a smirk. "And he's not doing a vanishing act. He can shrink himself using that suit. He's a thief and an excellent engineer in addition to calling himself Ant-Man."

"Ant-Man?" Steve smiled in spite of himself. "Looks like he gave you a run for your money."

"He'd do the same to you if he caught you off guard. Shrinking makes him crazy strong."

Steve nodded a few times turning the news over in his head. "If he's game, contact him."

"Alright. What about Clint and Wanda?"

Steve sighed heavily, taking the bridge of his nose in one hand. "What makes you think Clint would have our back? Natasha is with Tony on this one.”

"Because he didn't sign." Sam answered confidently. "He "retired" or whatever. His silence on the subject speaks volumes."

Steve gave a sort of sideways nod. "I'll give you that. But we can't ask Wanda."

"Why can't we ask her? Rumor has it that she's still undecided on the business with the Accords."

"Because she's just a kid."

"She hasn't been a kid since somebody dropped a bomb in her house and killed everyone in her family but her brother. She's 18. I had already signed up for the service by then. And she'd already signed up for Strucker's experiments." Sam shot back, causing him to deflate slightly. "Steve, Tony has her prisoner at the Avengers facility. She'd have signed by now if she was going to. You and I both know that. She at least deserves the chance to have freedom on her own terms. This is her fight too. As much as it's anyone's."

"Is it?" Steve bit back, more savagely than he meant to. "Sam… please don't pretend that this is about the Accords for me. This is about Bucky. Full stop. And I can't drag everyone in the world into this on my account."

"I know, Steve. But what's wrong with the Accords is exactly the situation we are in. We know what needs doing. Yes, Bucky is involved and he means the world to you. You're just two men. We can get two men out of this city unnoticed if that's all, but there's more to it than that. We know that there are five Soviet era kill-droids that can topple a government in a matter of hours, and the bad guy is headed right for them. We don't have time to debate or get permission. We need to go. Now."

Steve put his hands on his hips and scuffed a boot on the floor, but didn't say anything beyond an acquiescing nod.

"Bucky's just a small part of this, man." Sam said, putting one hand on his shoulder. "It's a big part for you. It's personal for you because of that, but there are things that would be personal to all of us. No amount of paperwork and agreements and signatures and… and bullshit is going to change that."

Steve nodded again with a little more conviction this time. "Alright. Alright, so… If we're going to do this... Vision is with Wanda. What do you suppose we do about that?"

"If she wants to leave, she will." Sam replied, folding his arms. "Vision or no Vision."

Steve sighed and nodded again. He looked over at where Bucky still sat slumped on a wooden crate. He hadn't moved away from the vise. Just sat there forlornly rubbing his metal hand with the palm of the other, watching as his skin would drag on the seams between the plates. He looked up when he heard them stop talking, betraying the fact that he'd been listening. The woundedness in his eyes froze Steve's heart to his ribs. He looked so lost. So frightened. So afraid of… of something. Of what? Bucky had never been afraid of anything in his life.

Steve's resolve hardened in an instant. Sam was right. There would be no extracting his personal feelings from his work. There never was and he'd been a fool to think he could ever be impartial. No, Bucky would always be the most important thing. Before anything else. Before everything else. 

So… first things first. Steve had to get him away from here. Go deal with the remaining members of the Winter Soldier project and then get him somewhere… anywhere… safe. Somewhere safe where he could…

He shook his head hard enough to make his vision blur. No. Short range plans only right now. He couldn't let himself think past getting out of Berlin. One goal at a time.

"Call Scott Lang." Steve said softly, not looking at Sam and not looking at Bucky. His eyes were tracking the helicopter again. "And… call Clint, I guess. See where he's at on this. And if he's in, send him to talk to Wanda. He knows her better than any of us.”

Sam gave a sharp nod. "What are you going to do?"

Steve was fishing around in his jeans as he finished giving his instructions. He produced a small black flip phone from his back pocket. "I've… got a phone call of my own to make."

***

Tony headed out for his private jet as soon as they were finished talking. Even at maximum velocity, it was a long way from Berlin to Queens. Natasha had asked him if he was okay, but his flippant answer hadn't done much to put her at ease. She could read his anxiety in the erratic dart of his eyes and the tightness of his voice. This was all sliding sideways. But perhaps not irretrievably… perhaps if-

The instant the door slid closed behind Tony, Natasha's phone started buzzing. She patted around on her jacket, pulling out her smartphone. It wasn't until she saw the blank screen that she realized it wasn't the one vibrating.

A cold hard lump of dread dropped into the pit of her stomach. 

It was Steve's phone.

She didn't pull the phone out. She gave a perfunctory show of checking her email on the phone in her hand, and then made a cool, collected escape from the glass observation room and headed for the closest stairwell, tucking herself into a corner, under the first flight of steps.

"Steve." 

Not hello. Not where are you. Just his name.

"Natasha." Her name too in a tone that sounded too much like relief.

"I promised I'd answer." she assured him, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice. "But I can't promise I'll help. I…"

"I know. I just… I want you to see something. I want to talk to you. I…" she could hear him take a steadying breath. "I need you to come to… to where I am. And… you're the only person I trust right now."

Her heart nearly stopped at those words. She was suddenly back in Sam Wilson's sundrenched spare bedroom, drying her hair and questioning everything as her world burned to ash around her. She remembered asking him if he would trust her with his life, and he had said yes. And this was what that meant. And he was not just trusting her with his life but with Bucky Barnes's as well, and she knew that was a far greater leap of faith. Steve had thrown his own life away half a dozen times or more since she'd known him. But Barnes… 

God help anyone who got between them. 

She pulled the phone away from her ear, swallowing and turning in a circle as she tried to get a grip. "You have Barnes, don't you." She said finally. It wasn't a question.

"Please, Nat." he said pitifully. "I… he wasn't in control."

"The bruises on my neck and I are well aware of that."

"Shit." the word was distant, as if he'd taken the phone away from his ear to swear. "He… you were hurt? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. T'Challa got him off of me before he cost me anything more than a few weeks of wearing low necklines." she answered. She wanted to go on. Make light and shrug it off like she always did when she got hurt. But there was no shrugging this. She could hear his grief through the patchy connection and it physically pained her. 

She wanted desperately to give him something to laugh at. _Guess I won't be deep throating you any time soon._ was the first thing that came to mind. That was totally something Clint would have said. But she dismissed it. Not the time. It might never be the time if things went badly. And this had the potential to go very very badly...

No. She wouldn't think about that. Things hadn't gone that badly yet, and she might have a chance to set it right. They both might. If they were smart. If they played these shit cards they'd been dealt right.

"That therapist." Steve said, his voice coming a little unstrung as he clawed for words. "The one from the UN. He's… he was an imposter. He's behind all this, Nat. He's got… some way of controlling whatever… I don't know. Whatever protocols are in place to make Bucky kill on command."

"Steve… I-"

"I know it sounds insane, but you saw it for yourself."

She tried again, her voice becoming increasingly unsteady. "Steve, I-"

"Please, Nat. Please, we can't let them-"

"What do you want me to do, Steve?" she cut him off, words more pointed and acidic than she meant them to be. But she couldn't listen to this. To him pouring his heart out to her on the phone like this. It would be different if she could help him but she couldn't… she couldn't...

There was a beat of tightly tensioned pause.

"Is this line secure?" Steve asked, his voice careful and even.

"It's my burner, Steve. Of course-"

"Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have questioned it." Steve said, his voice wrung with desperation. "I don't like questioning it now. Is it secure?"

Her jaw clenched. "You have my word." 

Another pause. Another consideration of whether or not this was a good idea. She could practically hear him arguing with himself. Possibly replaying an argument he'd had with Sam in his head about whether or not they should be bringing her in.

"The recycling center." his voice was soft, as if he was still afraid of being overheard. "Near the reservoir. You can find it?"

"Yeah."

"There's an abandoned steel factory across the railroad tracks. We're on the third floor."

"Okay." Natasha breathed out the word. Something like relief flooded her, but only briefly. New anxieties were nipping on her heels. "Okay… give me… give me until full dark, and I'll be there."

"Thanks, Natasha." The gratitude in his voice bled through the earpiece and stained her heart.

"I'll see you soon. I promise. Be careful, Steve."

"You too, Nat."

***

Natasha was stealthy entering the building under the cover of the approaching twilight, but once she was inside, she abandoned all pretense of coverticy. The last thing she wanted was to take these three by surprise, even accidentally. She took the noisy, grating freight elevator to the third floor and found Sam waiting at the end of the hall. He jerked his head in tacit and decidedly neutral greeting before calling over his shoulder.

"Hey, Steve! She's here."

There was a pattering of harried footsteps and then Steve appeared, grimy and bruised but clearly relieved to see her. He met her halfway down the hall, his arms swinging open wide as he scooped her into a tight but careful hug. Natasha all but jumped into his arms, nails digging into the gray t-shirt for a moment before she remembered that he was probably just as battered as she was, supersoldier or no.

But the last time she'd had her arms around him was Peggy's funeral. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, his voice soft. He let her go almost immediately so he could look her over. "I didn't… I wasn't… I didn't know he'd gotten to you. I was..."

She reluctantly backed up and gave a stiff shake of her head to silence him. "He beat the shit out of all of us. Carter, Stark… T'Challa got him off me before he could do any real damage." She swept her hair aside, baring her throat and its collection of livid bruises in the clear shape of an encircling handprint.

Steve's lip wobbled and he had to stop himself from touching, fist clenching before it fell back by his side. "Natasha…"

The sound of her name, brimming with regret, nearly undid her. He hurt so much more than she did right now. She was concerned… for herself. For Steve, certainly. For the team. For Tony. Even for Barnes, in a way. The more she learned about the truth of his situation, the more pity swallowed her reason. But it was all external. All things that she could choose to compartmentalize, or so she told herself for the third time that day.

But Steve? He hurt, down in his marrow and that pain was writ into every line of his face. But she didn't have time to console him. She needed to see what he'd brought her here to see.

"I'm okay." she said, forcing her voice to be steady. "Where are you keeping Barnes?"

Steve gathered himself with a slow breath, and he jerked his chin back in the direction he'd come from. "This way."

He spread his hand between her shoulder blades and led her down the hallway towards Sam. Then stopped at a roll top door, leaning against the track and looking inside. Natasha rounded a second later, letting her heels click on the floor a little more loudly than normal.

She was met by the sight of Barnes slumped against a giant industrial vise. His metal arm, pinned in the vise's jaws, glinted dangerously in the dying sun. It was the only shiny thing in the room besides his eyes peering out from under the heavy fall of his dirty hair.

For a long, miserable moment they just stared at each other, neither sure what to do or say. But at length Bucky finally spoke.

"Is it Natasha or Natalia these days?" His voice was as haggard as the rest of him.

"Natasha." She replied, coolly.

Barnes just nodded, his head sagging a little.

"What's with the industrial restraints?" Natasha asked, glancing back to Steve and nodding at the vise on Bucky's arm. "I thought you said he wasn't-"

"He wanted you to feel safe. After..." Steve hesitated, looking for a sanitary way to say it. "After what happened. Now I see why, I guess."

She nodded and stepped closer. Bucky tried to look up at her, but his hair kept falling in his eyes. He didn't bother to push it out of the way with his free hand. He kept his whole body completely still in its uncomfortable looking crouch on the crate.

Natasha went to one knee down in front of him, barely an arm's length away. When they were eye to eye, she raised her hand, watching as he followed the motion. Then, sensing he didn't see her as a threat, she gently pushed his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. Her fingers ghosted over his temple and caught in his beard as she did so. His newly revealed stare met hers and something flickered there, like the click of a camera shutter. 

A recollection. A recognition. A connection reformed in the wreck of his mind. 

Natasha waited, knuckles still resting against his unshaven cheek, for an answering epiphany within her own thoughts. One breath. Two. Then three. 

Nothing.

"Do you know me, Sergeant Barnes?" she asked, eyes narrowing a fraction. She dropped her hand but stayed crouched on one knee in front of him.

"Bucky. Please." He rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck. "I've shot you. Twice that I can remember right now. I think that puts us on a first name basis?" He made an effort to smile but it turned into a savage lick of his lips that bared his even white teeth in something more like a grimace. 

His humor, however bleak, did startle a small cough of laughter out of Natasha. "Fair enough. It's nice to… actually meet you, Bucky."

Something flickered behind his eyes again. Something wary and calculating. And a little… sad? "Likewise, Natasha." he finally said, though the look on his face spoke volumes more.

She nodded, mostly to herself before looking back to Steve again. "Take him out of this thing, Steve. It looks uncomfortable."

Steve didn't need to be told twice. He was at the piece of machinery in three steps, hauling the pincer up until Bucky could wriggle his metal arm free. He sat up a little straighter as he flexed his arm at the shoulder, making the plates ripple all the way down his fingers. His sharp but tired eyes fell on the bruises ringing Natasha's neck like a garland of purple flowers. 

"I did that." It was both a resigned statement and a horrified question.

"You don't remember." her eyes narrowed around the statement. "But you remember shooting me years ago?"

"I remember everything. Eventually" He hung his head, wringing his flesh hand in his metal one until the skin turned white. "As long as I'm not in a… a wipe? Like… fresh out of the chair? I remember things. It's patchy at first, but eventually it all comes back. That's why they had to keep me under all the time. Memory was too good."

"You were a fighter. They… they said that about you." She stood, dusting the gravel from her knee.

"Who? The Red Room?"

"No. I did some digging for Steve after the Triskelion. An associate of mine found a dossier in a vault in Kiev. They... " she frowned, pulling up short as she stood. "They never talked about you in the Red Room. We heard rumors about the "Asset" program. Something about Soviet super soldiers but... I wasn’t even sure you existed until you shot me.”

Bucky gave a slow, impassive blink. "Huh."

A frown creased her lovely brow at that. "What?"

"Apparently, the Winter Soldier program wasn't the only one using memory wipes."

Natasha took an involuntary step back. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah… where are you going with this, Buck?" Steve had taken a few steps into the room again, arms folded across his broad chest. 

Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. "I came to the Red Room… while you were there. HYDRA agents came to... You… you don't remember?"

Natasha shook her head, scattering her red tresses around her shoulders as she looked to Steve. "No… No, I don't remember anything like that. I didn't learn about HYDRA until I was out of the KGB." She turned a freshly harrowed gaze back on Bucky. "I'm… the first time I ever encountered you was when I was escorting the scientist you shot. They… they didn't use memory wipes on us." She blinked twice to stop herself, but one last word sneaked out under her guard. "Right?"

Steve had expected this reunion to be an awkward one, but this had taken a turn he hadn’t at all anticipated. Thunderclouds crowded themselves on his brow at this new development as he looked back and forth between them. 

He believed her. It wasn't that. He saw that blank look bleed like ink over her face. Eyes a little wide. No hint of a smile or arch of a brow. Just her, overlaid with the thinnest layer of slowly panicking confusion. And he knew she was telling the truth.

And Bucky. He believed him too, full stop. Especially with that guarded look shuttering his face.

_What the fuck._ As if the Accords and this Zemo guy wasn't enough, now there was this coming out of nowhere. This rabbit hole was deep, and they wouldn't find the bottom today. Maybe ever...

"Look, I hate to cut this little trip down memory lane short." Sam interrupted, as if he was reading Steve's mind. "And believe me… with all the memory wiping, it would take me longer to walk to my mailbox. But we're on a bit of a time crunch here. We need to get out of Berlin now."

Steve and Natasha nodded, their expressions turning serious.

"Where are you going?" she asked turning to Steve and giving her head a shake to clear it.

"Siberia." Steve answered.

“Siberia? That’s… extreme.” She said with a puckered frown.

"There's more. More like me." Bucky explained with a grimace despite trying to look and sound pleasant. "That imposter from the UN is going for them."

"Don't suppose you have any proof? Something I could take back to Ross or Tony? Get you some help? Or at least lessen the interference?”

All three men shook their heads and contemplated their shoelaces.

"Awesome." She said, planting a hand on either hip. "Well, I'm sure Sharon is going to throw you a bone if she can, but Ross won't waste time coming for your heads. In fact, Tony has," she ceremoniously checked her watch. "Now 32 hours to bring you in if we want to avoid shoot-first-ask-questions-later from Spec. Ops. Do you have a plan?"

"First, I need to know that you're just gonna to let us go?" Steve asked, fixing her with a cold stare. He hated this. Hated having to play it close to the vest with her, after all they'd been through together. But if she'd signed the Accords, certain things were… required of her.

"For now." Natasha replied, adopting a tone to match his and finding her evasiveness acrid on her tongue. "I'm not going to tell Ross or Tony where to find you or where you’re going, but… if I'm called to fight, I-" a buzzing in her pocket caught her mid-sentence. "Ah yes. Duty calls." she flashed the phone display which showed Tony's debonair selfie before pocketing it once more.

"Why?" Bucky piped up.

"Why what? Why am I going back? To try and keep this situation from melting down anymore than it already has." she turned and looked at Steve. "I signed the Accords, so that's where I'll stick for now. It's where I can do the most good. Maybe with a location and the identity of this Sokovian imposter, I might be able to ferret out some information about this Winter Soldier project on my own. Get everyone on track to the real threat.”

"No, I mean… you could end this." Bucky clarified. "You could turn us in. Hell, you could just shoot me. There's a pair of pistols in the back of your jacket. You should put a counter weight in your front pockets so it doesn't gap like that."

"I left my copy of _War and Peace_ in the car." she bit back dryly.

Bucky smiled then. A savage, cold smile that could cut glass, but a smile all the same. "Took you for more of a Dostoyevski girl. But seriously though. Why not do it?"

Natasha's eyes went a little distant as the thousand-yard stare returned. But then she turned those hard eyes on Steve and her expression melted. "Because that's not who I am anymore. Steve is my friend. And I trust him." She looked back at Bucky. "And because I don't think he's 100% wrong. Just like I don't think Tony is 100% right."

"Very neutral of you." Sam remarked with a humorless smirk.

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe. I always look for options other than the obvious ones. I used to think that was the Red Room training talking. Always look for an out. A third option. Look for what's being hidden. Never believe everything is black or white. Don't do the obvious thing. But maybe…" She turned back to Steve with the barest hint of a smile on her lips. "Maybe that's just who I've turned out to be."

Steve smiled back. "It's not all you turned out to be." he told her, his voice fond and warm. "We'll try not to make a scene getting out of here. But… no promises."

"And I'll try to keep Tony and the others off your back as much as I can. But… like you said. No promises. If they get even a whiff of an idea that I know anything, I will be out of commission. And I want to stay in play as long as possible." she scuffed at the filthy cement floor with the heel boot. "But if I can help you… I promise to do that too."

Steve nodded, still clearly wishing things had worked out differently. "Fair enough."

"Thanks, Natasha." Sam said.

Bucky just flashed her a tight, but genuine smile. His eyes were far away… lost in a memory that only he could see. Perhaps something had come back to him.

She turned to go, but stopped herself before she took more than a step. She rocked back on her heel, not quite looking up at them over her shoulder. "If Sharon Carter wants to know where to find you…"

"You know how to get in touch with me." Steve finished for her.

She did turn then, eyes locked squarely on Steve. "And if she sticks her neck out for you again and you don't at least kiss her for her trouble, I'm going to be very disappointed."

"Duly noted." Steve replied, a smile tugging at his mouth and a blush staining his cheeks.

She lingered with her gaze tangled with his. It felt strange not to kiss him goodbye. Not to rush up and hold on to him… the one still and solid place in all of this madness. To bury her face against his t-shirt and whisper all sorts of promises she couldn't keep right now because of those damned Accords. Her parting quip felt token and flippant without the press of his mouth on hers. 

She wanted to fix this. To tell him- No… she wanted to promise him that she would find some way to make everyone happy. To tell those promises to the pulse in his neck as he held her fast against his chest.

She didn't let herself do any of that. Especially not with Bucky and Sam there to witness it. Everything was complicated enough already. She shouldn't have come in the first place. She didn't need to see Barn- Bucky, to know that everything was not as it had seemed at the UN. But it was Steve. And she'd made him a promise when she'd given him that phone. That she would always answer it. She could honor that promise at least.

And so she walked away. She turned her back on the three men and headed for the freight elevator, her booted feet echoing dully off the cement.

"Natasha, wait!" Steve had shouted taking off into the hall after her. His voice froze her mid-stride, but she didn't turn. "Natasha." He took her by one shoulder, pivoting her to face him. "Natasha, I…" He took a long slow breath as he tipped her chin up so she faced him. She nearly drowned in the aching shadows that filled his face. She had to clench her fists around the hem of her jacket to keep from touching him. 

But he touched her. He caressed her face, carded his fingers lightly through her hair. She nearly swooned at the contact. "I just… I... say it." he said softly.

She almost said "say what?” on reflex but she didn't really need to ask. She stared up into his horrifically sad blue eyes, carefully licked her lips and she said, "Be careful, Steve." Her voice cracked on his name like spun sugar.

Tears welled in Steve's eyes, and Natasha cupped his face to catch them with her thumbs as they fell. She couldn't stand to see him cry. Or see him in pain. Or see him with anything other than a smile and she hadn't in so, so long. 

He kissed her then. Their faces had drifted so close it was little more than a thought to push them together. He kissed her hard, and hungry, and far rougher than he'd meant to. 

"I'm sorry." he sniffled between kisses.

She pulled back, shaking her head and still wiping tears from his ruddy cheeks as she felt her own scalding her eyes and wringing her throat. "No… no, that's not what you're supposed to say, dammit." she swatted him weakly on the shoulder as he pulled her closer. "Say it."

He gave a rather undignified sniff followed by a cough of miserable laughter. "Be careful, Nat." he said finally, trying his best to smile as she continued to chase the tears from his face with her gentle, deadly hands.

She nodded then, planting another kiss on his quivering lips as she willed her own eyes to stay dry. "I'll try. You too."

He gave a small bob of a nod. "I'll try, too."

It took all of Natasha's willpower to disentangle herself from Steve's strong embrace. She wanted to go with them. She wanted to help Steve, and save Bucky Barnes, and put a stop to the Winter Soldier project, and then maybe find out what their shared history was. Find out what Bucky knew about the Red Room that she didn't and...

But this fight was bigger than that. Bigger than two Russian weapons swimming in a world at the edge war. And her place was where she might be able to make a difference in more than just a handful of lives. She had to be responsible for the bigger picture. For the long game. Because no one else seemed capable of it at the moment.

Not that she blamed them. She might not be able to maintain that distance forever.

And so she left, but not without looking back to see all three men staring wistfully and wonderingly after her. 

***


	2. Are You a Stranger Out in the Storm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence in the Quinjet was deafening as they zipped along what the GPS was labeling as the Belarus/Ukraine border. Steve could hear Bucky fidgeting in his seat behind him, and he could feel his own nervous energy rattling in his teeth along with the steady vibration of the engines. So many anxieties had herded themselves into the shadows by not allowing words to be attached to them, and they were paying the price for it now. There wasn't time now for second guessing or discussion. 
> 
> Don't think. Don't talk. Just do. 
> 
> That had gotten Steve by so far in his life, though perhaps not with the best outcomes. But he was still here. And Bucky was with him. And that wasn't nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone!
> 
> I come bearing this week's update as promised! Thank you all so much for reading and for your kind words. I'm so thrilled to see people already excited about this story and it's only just begun!
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for being a faithful beta reader. Seriously... he's the reason I'm confident enough to post anything at all ever. Give him some love over on Tumblr and Twitch!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! It is by far the shortest of the bunch. They all get much longer from here.

_Are you a stranger, out in the storm,_  
_Or has my enemy found me out_  
_On the edge of being?_

***

The silence in the Quinjet was deafening as they zipped along what the GPS was labeling as the Belarus/Ukraine border. Steve could hear Bucky fidgeting in his seat behind him, and he could feel his own nervous energy rattling in his teeth along with the steady vibration of the engines. So many anxieties had herded themselves into the shadows by not allowing words to be attached to them, and they were paying the price for it now. There wasn't time now for second guessing or discussion. 

Don't think. Don't talk. Just do. 

That had gotten Steve by so far in his life, though perhaps not with the best outcomes. But he was still here. And Bucky was with him. And that wasn't nothing.

"What's going to happen to your friends?" The despondency in Bucky's voice was painful. It sounded less like a question, and more a request for a verdict. A sentencing. 

Steve's jaw clenched so hard that without the serum he would have probably broken a tooth. "Whatever it is… I'll deal with it." he answered flatly. That was the truth after all. He just couldn’t be everywhere at once. One thing at a time. Clint and the others… they would understand.

Behind him, Bucky sighed. He didn't remember everything, but he remembered this. Hell, the Winter Soldier remembered this. Steve just running… flat sprinting from one fight to another. And all he could do was shake his head. "I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve."

Steve's heart wrung at those words almost to the point of stopping altogether. He fought the urge to turn away from the controls, not sure if a confrontation would be the best thing right now. "What you did all those years… it wasn't you." he told him, trying to keep his voice smooth and assertive. "You didn't have a choice."

"I know." Bucky replied, voice still tired and resigned. "But I did it."

Fuck it, Steve thought. He switched on the autopilot and swiveled around in his chair. "You don't need redeeming, Buck. You don't need to… I don't know. Vouch for yourself. No one will make you do that, least of all me. Or any of the people that fought with us in Berlin. Not even Natasha had to. And she didn't have half your mental bullshit in place to make her… I don't know. Compliant? She chose her contracts after the Soviets fell from power. And she was still welcomed into SHIELD with open arms, more or less. You will be too. We just… have to get this business straightened out first.”

"Natasha Romanoff." Bucky mouthed around on her name as if he had taken a bite out of it and was deciding how it tasted. Then he smiled and shook his head. "You and the Black Widow. Didn't think you the type. But I guess Peggy was a spy too. And Sharon.”

Steve huffed out a startled laugh. "She's ah… it's not what you think. Her or Sharon."

"Psh. What do you mean it's not what I think?" Bucky smiled, a thin line of teeth showing behind his cracked lips. "You kissed her. Like… I’m not inferring anything. You kissed Natasha fucking Romanoff square on the lips. I saw it and no amount of brainwashing is going to make me unsee it. So it’s something alright. And hey look… I’m not judging-”

"It's still not what you think." Steve said more firmly, though he kept the grin. "She's… it's complicated. Though I guess not really. She's a friend."

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. "She certainly seems friendly."

"Not like that, Buck. Just…” he sighed, his mouth pulling as he searched for an explanation. “Do you remember? When you first saw me in DC? When I pulled off your mask and recognized you?"

Bucky nodded, his smile fading into a sparkle of interest.

"I learned something I'd taken for hard fact to be false."

"That I'd lived?"

He nodded. "And that I gave up on you too easily."

"Steve, don't do that to yourself… you-"

"The world collapsed for both Natasha and me that day." Steve pressed on, eager to make his point. "SHIELD fell… and it had been like a second home to her. It had been her salvation after… after everything. I don't even know what all she did working for the Red Room. For the KGB. But that day? Her salvation… everything and everyone she had relied on to clear her conscience was presumed either dead or HYDRA. And… well. What I’m trying to say is that all we had was each other. So… we've sort of stuck together."

"What do you think happened to her after Berlin?" Bucky asked. "Think she got taken with the others?"

Steve thought for a moment before he shook his head. "No. She said she wouldn't see the inside of a jail cell. And I believe her."

Bucky nodded and was quiet for a long time, staring out the Quinjet window as the landscape zipped by. Steve oscillated in the pilot chair before starting to turn back around.

"I remember things from before I fell from the train." Bucky said suddenly, snapping up Steve's attention in an instant. "Those memories are… different."

"How so?" Steve asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"My memories as… as an Asset? As the Winter Soldier? They're clear. It's almost as if they're set up for someone to access from the outside. They're orderly, but not necessarily interconnected. And concise. I… even though I don't like looking at them, I can trust them to be correct and in order. But my old memories from before I fell? I just have all these disorganized snatches. They're like pieces of a puzzle. And I can tell what some of them are, y'know? This bit's a corner and this is part of the sky. But I know I don't have all of them yet. I'm not even sure I have most of them. There's giant gaps and just… It's all out of order. And every time I get wiped, it's like someone upends the table where I'm working the puzzle. So I have to start all over again. And… the longer I'm awake… the more there are things don't make sense sometimes… It's hard to follow..." His voice went a little hazy and careful towards the end.

"What doesn't make sense, Buck?" Steve asked, sitting forward a little more.

He turned his wounded eyes on him. "I…" he started before stopping to chew his lip. "What were we? You and me? Back before I fell off the train. I… I never make it far enough to fill all that in. But I remember… some things. I think."

The muscle in Steve's jaw twitched. "What do you remember?" He asked guardedly.

Bucky looked back out the window and was quiet again, almost as if he was gathering all the puzzle pieces he had and was letting them trickle through his fingers. His voice was halting at first. Testing and tasting each word before it was spoken. "I remember… Coney Island. You hated the rides. But you'd always go if I asked. I loved the way your smile looked in the neon lights. I remember… I remember you trying and trying and trying to get enlisted. I teased you the time you said you were from Jersey on the enlistment form. But I remember it scared me too. I was glad they wouldn't take you. I remember an English dame in Italy. Brunette. That was Peggy. She wouldn't give me the time of day, but you? She looked at you like she would drink your bath water." Steve choked on air at that, both of them smiling for a moment remembering her. But Bucky's voice turned inward and sad again as he continued his list. "I remember having lunch with you every day on the school yard. Even when it rained we'd sit outside just to get away from everyone. And we'd talk and talk… somehow never ran out of things to say. I remember... your mother dying. And… and… and that it was like pulling teeth to get you to move in with me."

Steve snorted. "Yeah, you said I would just need to shine your shoes."

"Never made you though." He gave a lopsided grin. 

"No…" Steve said softly with a musing shake of his head. "We never put the couch cushions down either."

"No… we didn't. You always slept with me." Bucky's voice grew soft with wariness again. Wariness and distrust at his own recollection. As if he was afraid the memories themselves were lying to him. "After that first winter when it got so cold and you came down with whooping cough. And…" he stopped, eyeing Steve closely.

"What do you remember, Buck?" Steve prompted.

Bucky shook his head, as if he was willing the memory to clear in his head. "Kissing you. When your fever finally broke. I woke up and found you drenched in sweat, and your eyes clear. You'd hallucinated for hours and I didn't have anything to bring your fever down. I was so scared. I was half mad with it. It… doesn't even feel like a memory. It almost feels like my own fever dream. It's so… real. So bright. It doesn't feel like the rest."

"It was real." Steve smiled wistfully. "You were so scared for me. Even after I was recovered you wouldn't let me go anywhere that winter without three layers of clothes, for fear I'd catch cold again."

"We never slept apart again… did we? Not until the war?"

"And even then when we could..." Steve affirmed. "We… had to be discreet back then."

There was a long pause as Bucky worried at his lips and worried at his thoughts. "What were we, Steve?" Bucky asked finally, leveling his eyes on him. 

Steve's tongue worked along the back of his teeth as he turned over different responses in his mind. The truth felt like too much. Too much right now. Maybe he could tell him later. Later when… if there was a later. 

Natasha's voice came to him in that moment. "You be honest with me." she'd said with that piercing, blank stare. She'd said it over and over on countless occasions. 

He couldn't lie. He couldn't tell the truth in half measures... In pieces like Bucky's fragmented memories. This was Bucky, after all, underneath everything that had happened. If he didn't lie to Natasha, then he sure as hell couldn't lie to Bucky.

"I loved you." Steve answered finally. "And you told me you loved me. It… wasn't an exclusive thing. We were young. We fooled around with other people… with girls, or more to the point, you did, because I couldn't catch a date to save my life. At least not until Peggy." he laughed a little. "We didn't know really what we were doing. It just… wasn't done back then. No one talked about it. There weren’t… words for it. Not polite ones anyway. But…"

"Say it again." Bucky said, longing overflowing in his bright slate-colored eyes eyes as he sat forward. "I want it to be true and I remember you saying it back then, but I… I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to trust it. Not until I heard you say it." Relief sparkled in his eyes like sunlight on water as he smiled. “Say it again."

Steve drew up short, a little stunned. But the words were pouring out of his mouth without a second thought. "I loved you. I still love you." 

"Still?"

"Of course."

Bucky shook his head, making his hair fall in his eyes so that he had to push it back. "I don't know how you're so sure. Not all of me came back." He flexed his metal hand. "And a few new things came in their place."

"It doesn't change anything." Steve said stalwartly. "You still loved me after the serum."

"But you were still you. I'm… I'm not sure what I am anymore. I'm still half a machine… Half… what they made me." He flexed his arm again to punctuate his words, the plates rippling like water.

"That doesn't change anything." Steve repeated, a sort of beatific serenity suffusing into his features. "Not a damn thing." 

Suddenly, with that admission floating in the air, the distance was too much to bear. He'd been careful and deferential to his harrowed friend… but now when they were alone? When there was nothing but them and the Quinjet engines whining softly, Steve couldn't stand to be that far apart. He spilled to the floor, hitting his knees in front of Bucky, who caught him by the shoulders and brought him to kneel beside his chair. Confusion and wonder underpinned with a wanting that defied description clouded his eyes. Steve lifted Bucky's metal hand, tangling artificial fingers with his own flesh and blood before pressing his metal palm flat over his heart. 

The sensitive instrumentation could pick up Steve's heartbeat even through the kevlar of his suit, and that caused all the air in Bucky's lungs to leave him in a rush. Servos whirred softly as his fingers flexed, digging into the thick material meant for stopping bullets. It bowed easily in his grip, the star curving into his palm. It felt no more resilient than tissue paper.

"Doesn't it?" Bucky asked. "Doesn't it change things?"

 _I could tear your heart from your chest, Steve._ That was what his tone said. What his eyes said. What the weapon Steve had leveled on his breastbone said as it dug into the kevlar.

"Only if it changes things for you." Steve replied, covering the metal hand with both of his own.

 _You can't tear it from me. You're already holding it. And I don't care with which hand._ was the answer in Steve's steady gaze.

Bucky's hand relaxed, and he lost himself to the percussive rhythm of Steve's heart kicking against his synthetic neurons. Feeling the slow flex and contraction in his ribs as he breathed. Steve hadn't tensed. Hadn't even flinched. Just as steady as ever. 

"I remember how you used to fit perfectly against my chest before." Bucky said, sitting back a little and pulling Steve with him. He propped his elbows on either armrest and grinned. "I could hold you. Feel you breathe against me. I could tell when a cold was coming on before it would hit. And sometimes we could head it off before it got bad."

Steve laughed then, all teeth and squinting eyes. "That awful licorice tea." 

"Better than the pneumonia." Bucky replied with a broad smile that faded as he picked up the trail again. "And cheaper than antibiotics."

"God, you always said that!"

"And then… when you rescued me from that lab, it was… it was like it was all reversed. You held me that night. Like I held you when you were sick, and I felt so… safe. I didn't feel needed anymore. I felt wanted. It was all so different. The only thing that wasn't different was kissing you." His voice trailed off, hope kindling shyly in his eyes.

"Well… then that's probably still the same." Steve replied. The words came out in a tone that sounded an awful lot like begging and Steve blushed handsomely to match. He tensed, making to stand, to ease the pressure between them. To give Bucky his space again. It was already too intimate for the situation. He'd said the words. Anything more would be too much. Later… if there was a later...

Bucky slid his metallic hand up to cup Steve's jaw, the other finding his waist and stilling him beside his chair. He leaned down over Steve's upturned face, slotting their lips together and kissing him deeply. Steve made a shameful sound deep in his throat and Bucky swallowed it up like a desert wanderer at an oasis. Tongues chased each other and lips traced slow circles, all cut with the sweet panting moans of two men who were truly enraptured.

"When this is over-" Steve broke the kiss to murmur against his jaw.

But Bucky silenced him with a metal thumb over his lips. "No. We finish this. Then you make me promises. Right now, I just want to kiss you." He cradled Steve's head in both hands, drawing him back up to his lips.

They kissed wanderingly and wonderingly until a chime from the Quinjet nav console stopped them.

Bucky's hooded eyes flicked to the console. "ETA ten." he whispered half into Steve's hair. Steve nodded, slowly and stiffly disentangling himself from Bucky's chair, which he'd ended up half occupying. He extended a hand to help Bucky up. Not that he needed it. He just wanted the excuse to touch him again, and Bucky seemed of the same mind.

"I… I need gear. Weapons. Something." Bucky said, his voice a little dazed. "The UN kind of has all of mine."

"Use Romanoff's locker." Steve jerked his chin towards the rear of the jet as he pulled Bucky to his feet. "Code is 7864"

Bucky laughed a little. "The fact that you know the locker code for a Red Room assassin blows my mind, Steve."

"Former Red Room assassin. And I have a lot of interesting friends these days." Steve said, a smile tugging at the corner of his kiss-stained mouth. "Well? Were you right?"

Bucky smoothed his long hair back with both hands. "About what?"

"Was kissing me different than before?"

That startled a cough of laughter out of Bucky. A raspy sound, as if his body wasn't quite sure how to make it anymore. "No. But yes."

"Different how?"

"I have a beard. And you've clearly been practicing."

It was Steve's turn to be shocked into laughter. "Yeah, well... There's a story there. I'll tell you while I get us landed."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: So there's an Easter Egg of sorts hidden in the code to Natasha's weapons locker. Penny to anyone who knows what that number is!
> 
> Come visit me on my Tumblr at @littlethingwithfeathers!


	3. In the Secret Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha Romanoff kept to her studio apartment in Rabat, Morocco for two days after Tony left for Siberia. While it was true she had burned all her covers after the fall of SHIELD, she and her specific skill set had never been slow to make new friends with unique problems. For instance, human trafficking had always been a problem at any crossroads where East met West, and Morocco was no exception. 
> 
> Since she kept getting calls to come work cases in northern Africa, she kept a modest but comfortable apartment tucked away in a bustling corner of the Rabat market district. An open floor plan that was all white walls and tall windows fitted with gauzy curtains and state of the art motion detectors. Not to mention a thousand places to hide all her essentials like pistols, a dozen false IDs, and so on. With easy roof access and a half a dozen escape routes to the bustling streets below, it was the safest place she had second only to her room in the Avengers Facility.
> 
> It was there in her little studio, surrounded by ribbons of scalding sunlight and the distant, but relentless rush of the ocean, that she awaited the fallout of the war between Iron Man and Captain America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all! I'm posting this week's chapter a little early because (surprise surprise) I got tapped for jury duty this week. I didn't want that disruption to make the chapter late, and it was finished anyway, so here it is!
> 
> We're back to good old Natasha/Steve land in this one. I always enjoy writing their dynamic, but somehow this chapter is really special to me. So I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for his faithful beta reading services!
> 
> And thank YOU for reading and for all the kind words and comments! Seriously... it makes my day to hear what people think of the stories I'm telling. 
> 
> Enjoy!

***

_I am no stranger who stands at the door_  
_Nor enemy come in the secret night._

***

Natasha Romanoff kept to her studio apartment in Rabat, Morocco for two days after Tony left for Siberia. While it was true she had burned all her covers after the fall of SHIELD, she and her specific skill set had never been slow to make new friends with unique problems. For instance, human trafficking had always been a problem at any crossroads where East met West, and Morocco was no exception. 

So when she hadn't been tracking down problem people or wayward tech for Stark Industries, Natasha had made a name for herself, as well as a tidy paycheck, working undercover for the Moroccan government busting human trafficking rings. Her reputation from the start was one of discrecion and success, and she had ruthlessly maintained it. She always came out with not just human lives, but with information on the broader sprawl of the trafficking networks. That would lead to more pins on the map and faces on the board. And that would lead to more busts, which lead to more of the same.

Since she kept getting calls to come work cases in northern Africa, she kept a modest but comfortable apartment tucked away in a bustling corner of the Rabat market district. An open floor plan that was all white walls and tall windows fitted with gauzy curtains and state of the art motion detectors. Not to mention a thousand places to hide all her essentials like pistols, a dozen false IDs, and so on. With easy roof access and a half a dozen escape routes to the bustling streets below, it was the safest place she had second only to her room in the Avengers Facility.

It had seemed a prudent place to lay low after everything that went down in Berlin. It wouldn't be the first time she'd taken refuge in her unassuming getaway. But this time, just to be on the safe side, she took a few extra precautions. For instance, when she had arrived she bleached her hair, and procured a wardrobe of exotic, but cheap flowy fabric, which let her hide more weapons on her person when she went out. And when she visited the market, she feigned only speaking French to blend in just that much more by keeping locals at a distance. Outwardly, she was the picture of a spoiled European trophy wife sent off to vacation where she wouldn't cause trouble for her husband. 

How like her real life her assumed life had turned out to be.

It was there in her little studio, surrounded by ribbons of scalding sunlight and the distant, but relentless rush of the ocean, that she awaited the fallout of the war between Iron Man and Captain America. Or at least that's how the media was characterizing it. A war. A war that was potentially still raging with speculations flying like bullets about who was at large and who had gone missing.

And she was here. Hiding. Because she didn't have any better ideas.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Natasha carefully spread a web of communication hoping to catch some detail about what might be happening with Steve after Siberia, or to Clint and the others on the Raft. She spent hours every day scouring the newsfeeds. She reconnected with old contacts, trawled social media, parsing the gossip from the facts until she was cross eyed. She poured over comm pathways and hawked the Deep Web for anything and everything that might possibly be something. It was all she could do. She didn't trust a one of her usual contacts at present. Most of them had gone to the CIA or private security after the fall of SHIELD. They were all wildcards until the fallout had cleared and the rubble sifted through. She probably wasn't the only one that shifted sides mid-fight.

Even though she hadn't changed sides at all. Not really.

Steve's phone had never left her side throughout the whole ordeal. She didn't even keep it in her pocket. After he had called it in Berlin, it stayed tucked in her bra, right over her heart. She didn't want to miss his call. A promise was a promise, and that was more important now than it had ever been. She had meant what she said at Peggy's funeral, staying together was more important than how they stayed together. And this was just how it looked right now. But she also was desperate to know what had happened, even if there was precious little she could do to help him now.

It was two days of pure agony, spent half deaf and totally blind. She was indeed spoiled, she realized, by SHIELD and by Tony and all their toys, as well as her own delicate web of contacts and informants. It made her sensitive. Vulnerable. Not knowing what was happening to her friends was a torture to which she was wholly unaccustomed. Hearing from no one, either because they couldn't call… or worse yet, because they wouldn't. It was the worst sort of hell.

But the phone eventually rang.

Steve's phone.

"Steve!" the desperate relief in her voice when she answered would have been embarrassing any other time, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He'd called. He'd finally called. She'd finally have some news about her friends. 

Her friend. Probably the only one she had left at this point.

"Hi, Nat." Came his voice, flat and tired through the distorted connection.

"Steve, I… I'm so glad you're alive. I'm so glad you called! God, where are you? Where-"

"First, tell me where you are." he asked, his tone cold and bland. He sounded so tired.

She licked her lips, tasting how quickly the truth sprang into her mouth in spite of the situation. "Hiding. Rabat, Morocco in the market district." She heard silence on the other end of the line as he processed that she'd told him the truth without hesitation. "Is he safe, Steve? Is-"

“I’m not telling you where he is. I know you helped us, but..."

Natasha's mouth closed with a click of her teeth, but she picked up the inquiry when he trailed off. "I didn't ask that Steve. I asked if he's safe."

"Why does it matter to you if he's safe or not?"

She reeled a bit at that, but kept it together. Steve sounded tired. No… exhausted. Spent. And hurt. He wouldn't be talking this way if he wasn't completely and utterly consumed by whatever happened in Siberia. And she had no idea what had happened in Siberia, she reminded herself. Best to go easy on him until she could find out.

"Because it matters to you." she answered, doing her best to keep her voice gentle. "It's why we're in this mess in the first place. It's why I helped you when I did. I..." There was dead air on the line. "And I…" Her sigh hissed across the mic as she stopped herself. "Steve… please. Is… is Bucky okay? Did you both make it out?"

Another crackling pause. "Yeah. We're… do you not know? Are you not... "

"I'm off the grid, Steve. I couldn't stay at the Avengers facility. Ross, the CIA, and the UN are gunning for me because I turned on them, or… that's how they see it anyway. So I'm hiding. Picked up a side business a few years back busting human traffickers for the Moroccan government. I have an apartment in Rabat, so I'm laying low here. I was waiting for… Waiting to hear… Waiting to hear from you. Steve, I…” She paused licking her lips. She'd never begged for information. Never in all her life, but just hearing him breathing across the phone connection made her crave it. Anything that mattered this much to Steve suddenly mattered more than anything to her. Perspective and careful planning were all out the window. "Steve, please…" she whispered. "I'm not going to turn you in. I want to help. Please tell me what's going on."

"Information on Bucky could get you back in Ross's favor. You… you have to understand why I'm cautious." Steve replied, his voice still uncharacteristically flat. Distrust did not suit him. Not in the slightest. 

"I don't want back in their favor, Steve. The Accords… it's all a mess. I… I… Steve, you'll never believe…" she paused for a moment to gather her words together. "We were wrong. We were so wrong, and while I understand their point, you were the one that was right. Putting control of… of us in the hands of someone like Secretary Ross? It's a terrible idea, and that's why I broke with the Accords. I'm not going back, Steve. Not for anything. So please… tell me how to help you. Tell me something…"

It was his turn to make the phone's cheap mic pop with a sigh. But after a resigned moment of silence, he finally replied. "Everyone made it out of Siberia. Tony too. Bucky's arm is gone. The metal one. Tony, he... But… we're both alive. Just really banged up. But… Tony… when he found out what I'd been keeping from him..."

"T'Challa filled me in on what… what started it." Natasha supplied. “He's how I made it out of the U.S. without getting arrested. But he only saw the start of the fight.”

"That makes more sense now." Steve said before taking another deep breath. "I… I… Tony went for Bucky and I just snapped." There was a crack in the sound that had nothing to do with their shitty phone connection. "I couldn't let him hurt Bucky. Nat, I just-"

"I know. I know, Steve, and I don't blame you for that." Her voice was achingly soft, even across the distortion. "Listen, you worry about getting Barnes somewhere safe, and let me worry about the rest, okay? I'm… I'm… I can be working on a few things now…" She pressed her lips together and then made herself say it out loud where she had to hear it. "Now that I know you're alive. I can't make promises but… I might have something for you soon. I've just… I've got to have a little more time. It's slow going for me these days. I don't have all my fancy toys."

There was a break as Steve digested the fact that Natasha had truly not known anything about the aftermath of Siberia. That's she'd been waiting days to hear if he was alive or dead. If she was on her own. If… 

"Okay. We're… we're in Wakanda. We were both pretty banged up so it took a couple of days to get back on our feet. And their med team wants to give Bucky a serious once-over. T'Challa's offering Bucky and me asylum until… but…" he huffed out a short breath. "Nat, they're going to arrest you if they find you. Tony will tell them if he hasn't already. He'll-"

"And they aren't gunning for you? Besides, T'Challa already told them everything about Berlin. Before he realized what Zemo was really up to." she cut him off. "Don't worry about me, Steve. I meant what I said when I spoke on Capitol Hill after the Triskelion fell. I'm not seeing the inside of a jail. Floating or otherwise."

"But the others have." his tone was brittle.

"Well, as it happens, I can be working on a plan for that while you sort things out in Wakanda."

"You can?"

"Consider planning already underway, Cap." she let her smile color her voice as she took a full breath for perhaps the first time in days. "But it can't be a solo op. Get Barnes, I mean Bucky… Get Bucky taken care of. Then come meet me here. Let's get to work fixing this mess."

Another crackling pause. A long one. Long enough that Natasha thought the connection might've died. Or that he'd hung up. "Okay." he said finally. "Text me your location. I'll be there… when I can get there. As fast as I can. I just… I've got to make sure everything is square with Bucky first. But I'll be there."

"Okay."

There was yet another pause that stretched nearly to the breaking point.

"Say it." She said, a crackle in her voice that wasn't the shitty reception.

"You first." he responded, a tight, relieved smile coloring his tone. She swore she could hear the case of his phone creak as he pressed it closer to his ear.

She sighed softly, clutching the phone to her chest for a second as if she could will the words to come straight from her heart. Then she put the phone back to her ear. "Be careful, Steve."

"You too, Nat."

The line went dead. But for the first time in almost a week, something in the tundra reaches of her heart flowered. The anxious coils in her ribs loosened as she tucked the phone back in its usual spot and grabbed her laptop. 

Nowhere to go from here but up.

***

The following evening, Natasha was at her table by the window when the final call to prayer for the day sounded. It would be a long time before she'd finally crawl in bed, but she hadn't seen any reason to not be in her pajamas as she sipped a cup of tea. The sky above was velvet dark. Only a few stars worried their way through the gloom of the city's glow. But below her, the lights of Rabat stretched out like a carpet of scintillating stars, as if each window contained a stolen bit of light from the hazy dark of the sky. A perfect, serene distraction from her constant trolling of the day's news. 

Looking… scouring… praying to find a single scrap that would tell anything more about Clint and the others. Or perhaps hint at Ross's next move, or give word of judicial hearings. Constantly trying to find meaning where there was most likely none, but trying anyway. At least a view like this she could watch passively. Just appreciate the beauty as she did the stars above the Red Room back when she was a girl and would sneak out onto the roof at night.

A knock at her door made her head snap from the window into the darkened apartment. With a practiced motion, she retrieved a pistol from the air vent at her knee and crossed to the door, bare feet moving whisper quiet over the floor. Her path expertly avoided the boards that creaked. Three locks came unlatched with a proficient hand. And then a deep pull of breath. One hand on the knob, the other leveling the gun without so much as a quaver.

She cracked the door to find the still bruised and battered face of Steve Rogers peering in from outside.

"Oh, thank God." she hissed, dropping her gun on the table and pulling him inside before meticulously latching all three locks behind them.

For a breath, there in the cloistered dark, they just stared at each other, before Natasha gave in and threw her arms around him. Distantly, she knew she should worry about aggravating bruises or other injuries, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was just so relieved to see him and to hold him.

"Hi Nat." Steve spoke those words to the part of her hair, barely doing more than just leaning into her. 

"Steve…" his name was a broken thing tumbling from her lips onto the front of his shirt. 

His arms encircled her then, pulling her tight against his chest. Captain America tight. So tight it was hard to breathe, and her own bruises from the fight in Berlin protested. But she craved it. She sagged against it, letting his arms crush the air out of her.

"I'm sorry." she whispered against the stretched cotton. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Nat." He replied, rocking her with a slow side-to-side twist of his massive shoulders. "You did what you thought was right. That's all anyone can do. I respect your decision to sign the Accords more than anyone's honestly. You didn't do it out of fear, and you had faith that there might be a way to improve them. That… says a lot about you."

"But I was so wrong." she said miserably, looking up at him with tearful eyes. "So so so wrong. Steve… You wouldn't believe how fast Secretary Ross turned on you. He…" she choked on the memory. "Steve, he would have sent Spec Ops after you. That was Plan A. If Tony hadn't bargained with him, killing you was an option on the table. He said it himself when I asked him flat out. Steve..."

Steve stroked her hair, letting the fine bleached strands tumble over his fingers as tears tumbled down her cheeks. "Is that what changed your mind?" he asked gently. "When you realized it was my neck on that chopping block?"

She gave a tiny little nod and a twist of her mouth. "I'd say it was stupid, but… I think if anyone knows how I feel in this instance, it's you."

"So how are we going to make this right, Natasha?" Steve asked, bumping his forehead against hers. "Arguably, we both screwed up. We can't bring back the people who were killed when Bucky was triggered, but we can help the ones who weren't. The ones who stuck their necks out on this. You said you had a way to help the people on the Raft. Let's hear it."

She gave an undignified sniff and pulled him over to her makeshift desk by the window, wiping her face with the full length of her shirtsleeve as she went. "It sort of starts and more or less ends with the fact that I know where the Raft is."

Steve's brows shot up in surprise as he took a seat. She pulled up one of the tall stools from breakfast bar behind him. "How? I thought it moved. That was part of the point. That and it's in international waters."

"It does move." She said, grinning around the remnants of her tears. "But I've found it. Better yet, I can track it."

"That's… definitely a start. More than one. Show me."

She reached over his broad shoulders to flip open her laptop; a dated model that looked like it would survive a drop out of her third story window. "Contrary to popular belief, there are perks to Soviet spy training." she told him as she pressed the power button and then folded her arms while the machine booted. "Something's got to make up for all the PTSD. And one of those things is covert Soviet communication protocol."

Steve leaned back to look at her, head pressed to the point of her hip bone. "How does that help here?"

She let a clever smile curl her lips. "Because they're considered defunct and no one scans for them anymore."

"Okay… but I'm still not following."

"Clint has a tracker in his ankle that’s using one of these protocols. I've got one too. We put them in after Ultron kidnapped me." Natasha replied, booting up a comms program as she talked. She'd rested her elbows on the caps of Steve's shoulders so she could work around him, and he settled back against the crook of her shoulder.

"And you think he'd still have it?" Steve asked twisting slightly to be able to see her out of the corner of his eye. "Last I saw, you two were pretty soundly beating the crap out of each other."

Natasha snorted with a wry grin. "Please. Who else were we supposed to fight in that brawl? The teenage girl with the laundry list of telekinetic powers? A super soldier? The other super soldier? A soldier that can fly? Or how about a guy in bullet-proof, nevermind arrow-proof, armor? Or the other guy in bulletproof, arrow-proof armor and a mounted machine gun? Or the _other_ other guy in bulletproof, arrow-proof armor with panther claws? Please. We know our place. And I mean, didn't Clint go up against Vision already?"

"To be fair he tried to avoid it." Steve replied, trying to shrug without dislodging her.

“Yeah… but I heard he got soundly trounced, so I know he wasn't looking for a round two there. We decided to stick to what we knew. And to be fair, we did. Mostly. Until Wanda called us out.”

"I saw her throw you. You alright?"

"My back looks like I forgot how a safeword works, but I'm okay." she smirked down at him, gratified that he smiled back if only at her phrasing. "Hey… here we go."

Sure enough, a few keystrokes later, and a ping was visible on the map, far out in the Atlantic ocean. 

"That's him?"

Natasha nodded, straightening up. "And presumably the rest of them since there's just the one floating prison… I hope."

"So what's the plan then?"

"You've got a stealth capable Quinjet, right?"

"I still have the one we stole from Berlin." he confirmed turning around to face her. "It's parked in a forest outside of town."

"Good. The Lemurian Star wasn't a bad test run for the idea of you hopping out of a plane into the ocean." Natasha settled her hands onto his shoulders as they both stared at the blinking dot on the map. "We can't get the Quinjet too close. I heard a guy from the CIA say that protocol aboard the Raft is to hail once and then deploy an EMP to knock the bird out of the air to be fished up at their convenience. If we go in under cover of a storm, they likely won't pick you up on their radar, and I can stick to an altitude out of their reach."

"It's not a no-fly zone?"

"No-fly zones attract attention, and that's the last thing anyone wants. Better to just have deterrents. Once on board, you can clean house. Then I can land, or we can steal one of their jets to get our people and get out of there."

"I don't like the idea of having to kill more people to get our people to safety." Steve replied, giving a slow shake of his head. "And it certainly won't help our case of being the good guys."

"That's why you're going to take these." She stepped back and reached into the trunk at the foot of her bed, returning to dump a pair of black bracers in his lap.

"Your Widow's Bite." Steve remarked, running his hands along the deep blue cabling that joined the bracers together.

"Set to stun. You won't have to hurt anyone. Well… injure them anyway. One zap from these would knock out a charging elephant. They'll feel like they spent the night pulling on a bottle of cheap vodka when they wake up, but they'll be alive."

Steve nodded, turning over the weapon in his hands as he turned over the plan in his mind. "When do we get in the air?"

"There's a tropical depression set to track directly over that location. Current models have it moving in after local sundown tomorrow evening. It will be the best camouflage, and our best bet for the foreseeable future."

Steve nodded again. "Okay."

"So… would you like to go over the plan, or would you like some tea. Or both?"

"Tea sounds amazing. Especially since we don't have a map or any details about what they've got aboard the Raft."

"I'm working on that, too. Got a couple of feelers out." She leaned over and kissed his temple, feeling the soft inhale of breath that elicited. "Should have something in the morning." She unwound her arms and headed to the little open kitchen area, busying herself with all sorts of arcane instruments, presumably all with the purpose of making tea.

A silence stretched out to fill the apartment. Steve wandered over to the window, looking out over the blanket of twinkling city lights. Natasha looked at him, taking in the tight lines across his shoulders, and the stillness he wrapped around himself to mask the constant churning that must be happening in his head. She knew this look. She'd seen it before and the only remedy was to draw him out of it.

"How's Bucky?" Natasha asked finally, slicing clean through that bit of unspoken tension.

Steve turned slightly to answer, eyes not leaving the window. "He's… he's okay. Alive. He's in Wakanda. T'Challa's sister, Shuri, is running some tests on him. They've got cryo-stasis technology, and she thinks she can use it to undo some of the programming from the Winter Soldier project. But his memory is starting to come back on its own."

"That's good news." Natasha seemed to find measuring tea leaves to be the most interesting thing in the room. "So, I guess you guys are… are you...?" The unfinished phrase bent itself into a question.

"Back together?"

"Yeah." she tried to sound casual and, to her surprise, failed miserably.

"Well," he tossed a smile over his shoulder, but didn't quite look back at her. "I kissed him in the Quinjet on the way to Siberia and lived to tell the tale, so…"

"That's good." Again, the answer came too quick to be natural.

"Nat?" Steve asked the question with only her name. He turned from the window completely when he got no answer, eyes finding her as she busied herself making tea.

"Just… trying to make sure I know where we stand." she answered a little too primly as she pointed back and forth between them without looking up. "You and me." 

Her eyes never left what her hands were doing. Why would she need to look at him for a question so simple. This was casual and easy. Just a conversation between friends. She wasn't anticipating and planning how she might need to reorganize her whole world again if-

Steve was around the counter in an instant, his hands on Natasha's hands to still her. She made herself look up at him then, gratefully leaning into his grip. He nosed along her cheekbone as her arms looped around his neck. "I told him about you." he said, words tickling over her ear. "I mean… he saw me kiss you so…"

"What did he say?" She asked, eyes wide and earnest.

There it was. That painfully open expression that would show him all the clockwork of her mind if he only knew how to read it. He had to admit he was getting better at it. He saw worry there. And relief too. And want… always want… and the expectation that she might be asked to go.

"He says I keep strange company." he replied, the corner of his mouth curling in the most appetizing way.

"Don't we all." she replied, a smile of her own pulling at her lips. "He wasn't upset?"

"Hardly. He was curious about you." He gently carded a hand through her hair. "About us."

"I just… I worried that I was… that I could be overstepping." She said, fingers nervously toying with a seam on his collar. "If… if things stayed physical between us now that he's back. Sort of."

"Well… things with Bucky and I were always a little… fluid." Steve said. "Bucky loved bouncing around between different girls, and I had Peggy during the war. It was different back then. Two guys, you know… it couldn't be what it could be now. But we just always had each other no matter what."

She cocked her head a little, hope suffusing that sweetly open expression on her face. “Just like I have you?”

He smiled at that, teeth and all. “We have each other.” he corrected.

She raised up on tiptoe, angling her head and asking for a kiss with her eyes. And Steve happily obliged. He kissed a gentle circle around her mouth, tongue tracing her Cupid’s bow and teeth catching the ample swell of her bottom lip. She melted into it, want mingling with desperate relief. 

“He really did think I was crazy though.” he murmured against her lips.

“Bucky? Can’t say I think he’s wrong.” She replied, fondly scratching her hand through his hair. It was starting to get long, falling in light wisps around his ears. “Apparently, he knows more about the Red Room than I do.”

“That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

She huffed a heavy sigh and turned back to her tea-making. Steve let her, though one broad hand still spanned the small of her back. She leaned into the touch just a little as she worked, letting the weight of his hand catch the weight of her body and anchor her to the moment as the conversation turned difficult again. “Steve, he implied that I’d had my memory wiped at some point.” 

“Maybe you all were?" Steve shrugged, trying to make the comment as nonchalant as possible given the subject matter. "Maybe he was brought in as some kind of test? And then you were all wiped?”

She shook her head. “Wipes require a certain mental architecture to work properly. Red Room agents don’t have… they didn’t do to us what they did to Bucky.”

“Well, maybe after we deal with the Raft, we can go hunting the truth on that.” Steve suggested.

Natasha gave a noncommittal twist of her shoulders. “Maybe.”

“Don’t you want to know the truth?”

She turned to grab the hissing kettle from the stove, reaching rather than leaving the touch of Steve's hand. “Remember when I told you the truth isn’t the same to all people?”

“I do.” Steve replied. “I also remember telling you that was bullshit.”

“You were right in that case. But…” she poured boiling water into their teacups as she searched for words. “That doesn’t mean I was wrong. Sometimes the truth is liberating. But it can also reveal things that end up being a burden instead of a blessing.”

“But wouldn’t you rather know regardless?”

Natasha pressed her lips into a thin line, idly rapping a spoon on the counter. “I'm not sure. Sometimes you just… you learn to live with the question mark. But, maybe… Maybe I would like to know now.” She answered finally, staring off at nothing for a moment before cutting her eyes up to Steve’s face and smiling at him sidelong. “That’s your fault.”

He answered her smile with one of his own. “Guilty as charged.” He said, reeling her back into the circle of his arms. She came easily. Pliably. Natasha buried her face against his chest and let herself be swallowed again by the sensation of Steve all around her. He held her, rocking with her for a moment before his hands began to wander. Innocently at first. Just the slow pass of his palms up the sumptuous curve of her back, over her shoulders to tangle in her freshly bleached tresses. For her part, Natasha lost herself to it, rubbing her face back and forth across the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the muscles move under his skin and clothes. 

She felt his fingers tighten in her hair. It was not enough to hurt. Not even enough to direct. Just enough pressure to communicate intent. For Steve to tell her that he desperately wanted to kiss the long white column of her neck. To tongue at the hollow of her throat and rake his teeth over the shell of her ear. She willingly and gratefully arched back into his grip, baring herself to his desires. 

Natasha shivered as she felt his hot breath chasing out over the sensitive skin of her throat. Now his grip had turned tight, almost crushing as he sought to mold her against his solid frame. And she pulled him to her as much as she was able, suddenly keenly aware of exactly how much stronger he was than her.

The memory of the fight at the UN bubbled up like oil unbidden to the surface of her mind. She recalled how helpless she'd felt as Barnes… no. No, it wasn't Bucky Barnes. It was the Winter Soldier that had tossed her around the foyer of the UN building like a ragdoll. Like she weighed no more than a passing thought. 

But she didn't feel helpless now. Or hopeless. Or like some easily dismissed thing. Not with Steve here with her again. They had a plan. Or at least the start of one. And they had the tools, and they had each other. His strength and her skill. It hadn't failed them yet.

And he had his hands and his mouth all over her.

Almost as if he was reading a transcript of her thoughts, Steve swept his arms under her ass and hoisted her up on the counter. He had her pajama pants and her underwear around her ankles in a second before he hit his knees on the cold tile floor. 

He looked up at her from where he knelt, his blue eyes turned a pale whispery gray in the dim light of the kitchen. The golden shadows tucked neatly into the chiseled lines of his face. Even with his fading bruises and healing cuts, to Natasha he looked like one of those church statues. Like the ones of those angels kneeling around the throne of God or some such. All sharp cheekbones and pious gazes. Golden hair and full lips. 

"May I?" he asked, sliding both thumbs down the creases of her hips to push apart her thighs.

She nodded, cradling his jaw in one hand and leaning back on the counter with the other, further exposing herself for him.

Steve sat forward and nosed at the edge of the russet curls between her legs, kissing and licking the arches of her hips and along the smooth skin of her spread thighs. He teased her with light touches and scrapes of teeth, delighting to feel her shiver and jump under his caresses. 

But he wasn't really in the mood to tease. After her first needy, drawn out moan, he delved his tongue into the wet slit between her thighs, hearing her voice turn shivery at the contact. She tasted divine, her pussy already gone slick and flushed before he'd even gotten started. He licked, again and again, not caring a bit about the mess he was making of both of them. He trailed spit, his face soaked as he pushed his tongue deeper and deeper into the quivering heat of her body.

Natasha's hand had moved to his hair. She needed a distraction from the ecstasy coiling around and around in her hips, so she tried to find one by playing with his hair. Feeling the strands tickle over her fingers and by counting the tiles on the ceiling. Counting her breaths. Listening to him breathe as he all but inhaled her. Anything. She wanted this to last. She wanted to have this as long as she was able, because the world seemed to be crumbling away faster than ever… 

But Steve was making patience increasingly difficult. He'd found her clit with the point of his tongue and was making a show of laving it with steady, languorous licks. Natasha felt her core clench at the sensation, both hands sinking into his hair now as he worked her relentlessly.

He opened his mouth, laid the flat of his tongue over her drenched opening and sucked on her swollen clit. Her back bowed in a beautiful arch as she let out a thin, reedy moan. Natasha could feel the knot of his jaw muscle rolling against her palm as he suckled on the sensitive little nub over and over, as if he were drawing water from a well, or perhaps poison from a wound.

What little patience she had been able to muster had its rewards. The flame that had kindled down deep in her core was now a roaring inferno that chased from her toes to the crown of her head. She bucked and shuddered on the counter desperate for just a little more friction. Just a little more...

"Your fingers… Steve, please!" she wailed, and he immediately obliged her. Two thick-jointed fingers slid inside her easy as anything, and she clutched up tight around them as he curled them forward. Over and over he beckoned inside of her, sending sparks up to play behind her closed eyelids. She didn't last long after that. Not when he gave her exactly what she wanted. 

When she came it was like a lightning strike. The pleasure seemed to arc and snap from the tips of Steve's fingers out under her skin in a wave of heated sparks. She went rigid, digging her heels into his back as he continued to work her with his mouth and fingers, coaxing out every last shiver of ecstasy that he could. She had no way of knowing how long she stayed like that, paralyzed with pleasure as he made sure to wring every last moan and shudder from her. Nothing marked time save for her hips which rolled ceaselessly against his greedy open mouth. Her ears were ringing and her vision had gone totally white. Nothing existed save where his lips touched her and his fingers beckoned to her...

She was staring at the ceiling when her sight cleared. She looked down to find Steve licking his rosy red lips, head leaned against her knee. He still looked the same though. Angelic and righteous, just… his lips were a little more swollen than before, and bent with a terribly pleased smile. She traced the plush curve of his mouth with her thumb before ghosting over the bruise that decorated his cheekbone. He leaned into the contact as she took two steadying breaths and tried in vain to wet her mouth.

"Take me to the bed, Steve." she managed, pushing a hand through his hair and drawing him up for a biting kiss. "Fuck me. Please."

He did not need to be invited twice. In a single, smooth motion he stood, swept his hands under her ass again and hoisted her up around his waist. She clung to him, her lips messily finding his as he carried her to the bed against the far wall. He dropped her to the mattress but she didn't let go of him. The pull of her legs kept his pelvis flush to hers and she could feel how hard he was inside his jeans.

"Fuck me." she pleaded again, tugging weakly at his shoulders. More a show of desperation than any sort of feat of strength. 

"How do you want it?"

"I don't care." Desperation hung thick on her words as she continued to paw for him, arms and hands still weak with her first orgasm. "I just want you inside me.

Soft sounds of fabric fell on her ears as Steve fumbled with his fly one handed. The other had rucked up her pajama top to cup the curve of her breast. When his cock was freed, he wasted no time in nudging the swollen head against the soft lips of her pussy. 

"God, yes." she moaned, trying to pull him even closer with her legs as her hands skated up his arms.

It was all the encouragement he needed. They were long past the point of deference and careful questions. When she said she wanted it, he'd learned to believe her. And to give it to her. He pushed inside with a single thrust that had them both arching up together. Natasha felt like the length and the girth of him was forcing all the air from her lungs, turning the sigh into a long strangled sound at the end.

"Too much?" he asked, steadying both hands on her hips.

She just shook her head, the force of that first thrust driving all attempts at words from her grasp. She just hooked her ankles together behind his back and dug her nails into his shoulders, hoping he got the message.

He did. Steve set up an uncharacteristically punishing pace almost immediately. Not fast, but forceful. Each snap of his hips nearly made Natasha's teeth rattle, but the apex of each thrust found that sweet spot buried deep in her pussy, ratcheting up the tension that began to grow anew in her core. 

She could feel his fingers digging into her flesh. But through the haze of her pleasure and the sweet sounds of Steve's almost animalistic groaning, she realized he wasn't holding that tight to give himself more thrusting power. His shoulders were hunched, and his face pinched with effort that had nowhere to go. His hands held her still rather than pulling her to him. He was holding back. He was stiff with the effort of keeping himself from being too forceful.

 _No,_ Natasha thought. _If he wanted her with all his might. With all that strength? He could have her._

She grabbed his hands to pry them from her hips, and after firmly entwining their fingers, she pulled them up to land on the mattress on either side of her head. Steve stopped for a moment, looking down to read her face. To try and discern her intention. 

"Like this." she panted, leaning up to kiss him and letting her teeth catch on the plump curve of his bottom lip. "Don't hold back."

He held her gaze for a breath more before he gave an almost imperceptible nod. His grip on her hands tightened, almost to the point of pain, and the thrusting began anew. He drilled into her, over and over again, his breath coming in deep, groaning pants that sometimes formed words or the vague outline of her name. He lost himself to it. To the softness of her body beneath him and around him. And to her openness. 

Natasha had never laid herself this bare before, nevermind that she was still half dressed. She was spread out under Steve like a banquet. Legs splayed and arms trapped. All she could do was receive the pounding he was giving her. And she did so gratefully. Everything walked the border of ecstasy and pain. The thickness of his cock at this angle was almost too much. Almost too deep. Almost. Her hips ached at being spread so wide, but she wouldn't dream of closing her legs. The fine bones in her hands hurt where he gripped her, but the twinge anchored her. She lost herself to the mingling of pleasure and pain in a way she'd never experienced. She felt wanted. She felt open. She felt safe.

She felt like she was his. And he was hers.

_Hers. No matter what._

That thought lit the fuse on her orgasm and the sizzling wave of pleasure swept through them both, carrying Steve along in its wake as he emptied himself into the hot clutch of her willing, pliant body.

Steve released her, and both of them flexed their fingers stiffly. Reflexively, Steve collected her hands, thumbs skating over knuckles and searching for any sign of injury, but Natasha didn't let him fuss long. She turned his hands over, kissing her way along his knuckles in turn, occasionally letting her teeth drag on a tendon or ridge of bone. 

Natasha breathed in a deep sigh as the frisson dissipated. The air smelled like Steve, and not so clean sheets, and the desert breeze, and sweet spiced tea, and-

"Shit, our tea!" Natasha exclaimed. She gracelessly clambered off the bed and scurried to the little kitchen counter fighting her wobbly legs. She pulled on her sleep bottoms and underwear before checking on their mugs. Luckily, they were both still warm. "Cream and sugar?"

"However you take yours." Steve replied, a smile both in his voice and on his face. He had ditched his jeans and shirt, and piled into bed, clearly still riding the blissful post-orgasm wave. "Can we have it in bed? I… really don't feel like moving now."

"Of course." she answered, returning with two steaming teacups in hand. They both climbed up on the mattress and arranged themselves against the headboard, legs tangled together. And for a moment they just drifted in the afterglow. Sipping tea that was only a little bit stronger than usual, and enjoying sweet, caressing touches. 

"Thank you for answering my phone." Steve said after a moment, eyes studying the rim of his teacup.

"I promised I would." Natasha replied, nuzzling under his chin.

"I know, but… thank you anyway." he kissed her forehead. "For keeping your promise. That… means a lot these days."

She craned her neck back to smile up at him. He looked so different now, cozy with a mug of tea in his hand, all curled up in her bed with the hazy glow of a sound fucking veiling his normally bright, sharp eyes. She told herself it was just the angle of the light, but she knew he looked different. Not like the haggard soldier that had shown up on her doorstep just an hour or so ago. Or the beatific saint that had knelt at her feet in the kitchen. He just looked like… Steve. Her Steve. Her friend who she could always trust to keep his promises. She leaned up and captured his mouth with hers, parting his lips easily with her tongue as she enjoyed the extra warmth in his mouth that tasted of tea and spice.

"While we're on the subject of that phone, I was thinking..." Steve said slowly, as if measuring the words before speaking them. "Could you get me a burner phone? A separate one? I'd… I'd like to send one to Tony."

Natasha swallowed at the array of implications buried in such a simple request, but nodded. "Sure. I've got a few around here. We can set it up tomorrow."

"I just… I want him to know he can reach out to me if he needs to. Or even just wants to. I… I didn't mean for this to go so sideways. Not between us."

"I know." Natasha replied, laying her head on his chest and listening to his heart thump right by her ear. "That's… that's honestly a good first step. Puts the ball in his court."

Steve just nodded before pulling her close and taking a long drink of his tea. Natasha felt the column of his throat work against her cheek as he swallowed. Such a strange thing to take pleasure in and yet… she did. Another silence rolled over on the bed between them as they breathed the fragrant steam of their tea and let the gravity of their situation settle over them like a heavy blanket.

"What are you going to do?" Steve asked finally. "Once we deal with the Raft."

She lifted a shoulder before settling a little closer and letting her eyes drift over the open floor of her apartment. "You're looking at it, I think. At least in the short term. I'm doing some good. I'm staying out of sight. My life could be a lot more dangerous than this."

"You like it here? Doing this?" he looked down at her. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Busting human trafficking rings." She looked up at him with a sleepy but beaming smile. "This is that side gig I told you about. Between jobs for Stark. Been at it for a few years now off and on. My… "skill set" shall we say, helps them do more on a bust than just bring in some bad guys. I bring in intel to help them find the next set of bad guys in the chain." 

"You didn't really answer my first question." Steve pointed out gently.

Natasha's eyes went distant for a moment, the light fading from them a little as she took a long sip of her tea. "It's… it feels small sometimes. After everything. So did working for Tony." she looked up at him again, that soft openness spreading across her features. "But it's not nothing. It helps people. It's honest work… which is not always a given for me. And it's… it's teaching me to operate alone again."

Steve's brow furrowed. "You don't sound like you like the idea of that."

"I don't." she admitted, again the truth coming more easily than it used to. "But the world is what it is. The Avengers are done. At least for the time being. SHIELD is long gone. At least in any form that would have anything to do with me… or that I would have anything to do with for that matter."

"Too risky?"

"Too unstable." she corrected. "Too… unpredictable. It's… Your point in not signing the Accords still stands, and SHIELD is another great example of that problem. It's under US government control now. And they… sometimes make misguided decisions."

"That's a polite way of saying 'wrong.'" 

"No, I meant what I said." she shook her head. "I don't think anyone's doing something wrong for the sake of it. They're… misguided. And we would be misguided with them. No way we would be getting to see all the cards anymore. I had enough of that in the Red Room and with the KGB. And with SHIELD, truth be told. At least at SHIELD I thought the people calling the shots gave a damn. And… well, you taught me how dangerous it was to put yourself in another's hands long before the Accords were ever a twinkle in Secretary Ross's eye."

Steve nodded consideringly.

"So… I'm on my own." she concluded, even as she pulled herself even tighter against Steve's side. "Haven't been on my own since… since Clint found me. Or since ever, really. I was always on somebody's leash."

He sighed, feeling her body give alongside his. He took both their half finished teacups and put them on the nightstand and pulled her flush against him. She wound her arms around his back and pressed every inch of her lean body against his, as if she could meld with him and disappear. 

"You're not on your own." he spoke the declaration into the part of her hair. "We are going to go get the others out of the Raft. You and me. And then we're going to Wakanda and… I don't know. We'll figure it out from there. But you're not on your own. I promised… remember? That I'd always answer the phone. That I'm your friend… before anything else. Okay?"

She nodded and gave a long shuddering sigh. A breath she'd been holding in for far longer than this conversation. The ghosts of the words "Thank you." were all she could muster as she kissed the hollow of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt.

"Let's get some sleep." he suggested. "Long day tomorrow. Would you like to sleep against the wall?"

A small crack rent her heart at the question, nearly sending tears to her eyes even as she smiled and squeezed him around the ribs. 

"Yes, please."

***


	4. On the Verge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, well… would you look at that." Natasha practically purred from behind him. He half turned from the counter as she continued to speak. "Look who came through for us, Steve." She spun her laptop on her palm to show him a detailed schematic she'd received. Multi-layered and intricately labeled. Clearly a highly secured file. Or it should have been.
> 
> "What is this?" he asked with a drawn brow.
> 
> "Schematics for the Raft." Natasha replied, turning the screen back towards herself. "Top secret. CIA stuff. Wonder who that could be?" Her mouth curled into a rather salacious smile as she passed Steve his coffee.
> 
> A stain of pink touched his cheeks as he busied himself with the contents of the chopping board. "It's Sharon. If I had to guess."
> 
> "Did you kiss her?" Natasha asked, putting her hand on her smartly popped hip, while still balancing the laptop on the other. "For this, you better have French kissed her, Steve, or I swear-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone! Hope you all had a great weekend! For the next couple of weeks, we should be good for Monday updates, but there might be a slight shift at the end of the month due to my schedule at the theatre. (tech week cares not about things like fanfiction!) But the fic is finished so don't fret.
> 
> Speaking of finishing things, many thanks to my faithful beta reader KaminaDuck! I couldn't do this without him.
> 
> And thank you to all of you for reading, for leaving kind and encouraging words in my comments, and for all the kudos! Seriously... getting the "You got a comment!" email is always the highlight of my day when it happens.
> 
> Enjoy this week's chapter and I'll see you next Monday!

***

_I am your child, in darkness and fear_   
_On the verge of being._

***

Morning sex, it seemed, would always be a thing for Steve and Natasha. They mixed things up in the soft dark of evening. Sometimes rough. Sometimes teasing. Always playful and passionate.

But their morning routine, as it was, would always be gentle. Soft dozy touches that slowly shaped themselves into easy, languid thrusts and long, mouthy kisses. Usually, it was barely more than half-clothed rutting until they both came unraveled together, and puddled up in a sticky, sweaty, sleepy pile. No words. Just touch and breath and sweetly contented sounds.

This morning was no different. They were facing each other this time, pressed together nose to forehead, panting the same air as they chased the pleasure that spun tighter and tighter between them. And in the rushing release of its wake they both found themselves starving for breakfast. Once they had a shower, of course.

"What is for breakfast in Morocco, anyway?" Steve asked as he tugged on an undershirt. "Can't say I've ever had the pleasure."

"Omelettes. Bread. It's not too much different than in Europe. Just things have different names. The bread's shaped a little differently. And there's no bacon." Natasha shrugged as she wandered over to the dining room table to retrieve her laptop. "But there's coffee strong enough to power a Quinjet. Well… I drink coffee in the morning anyway. Old habits and all that. You want some?"

"Please. I'll do the eggs if you'll make the coffee."

"Deal."

Natasha shook out her still drying hair and ambled lazily towards the kitchen. She started her countertop espresso maker with one hand while plugging in her laptop with the other. And Steve found himself watching it all over the top of the refrigerator door with a liquid fondness spreading through his limbs. 

It was clearly a practiced routine. Coffee and information were the first order of the day in Natasha Romanoff's world. And it was a world he never had quite gotten much more than a glimpse of, even in all their shared time at the Avengers facility. Even with all the mornings they spent together. Even when they slept in sometimes, he never really saw this. Something about that stung guiltily in his conscience.

The steam in the espresso machine began to hiss and spit, making Steve shake himself and set to work on the eggs. He pulled a few recognizable things out of the pantry and fridge along with the eggs, and set to work at the cutting board. Natasha had been unaware that she was being watched as she clattered away at the keyboard one-handed as she stirred their tiny espresso cups with the other. 

"Well, well… would you look at that." Natasha practically purred from behind him. He half turned from the counter as she continued to speak. "Look who came through for us, Steve." She spun her laptop on her palm to show him a detailed schematic she'd received. Multi-layered and intricately labeled. Clearly a highly secured file. Or it should have been.

"What is this?" he asked with a drawn brow.

"Schematics for the Raft." Natasha replied, turning the screen back towards herself. "Top secret. CIA stuff. Wonder who that could be?" Her mouth curled into a rather salacious smile as she passed Steve his coffee.

A stain of pink touched his cheeks as he busied himself with the contents of the chopping board. "It's Sharon. If I had to guess."

"Did you kiss her?" Natasha asked, putting her hand on her smartly popped hip, while still balancing the laptop on the other. "For this, you better have French kissed her, Steve, or I swear-"

"I did. I did." Steve waved at her, the blush spreading up to his hairline.

"I don't believe you." Natasha set the computer down and folded her arms. She was trying to look stern but a smile wrung her lips against her will.

"Hey, what happened to you always believing me?" Steve replied indignantly. "I'm a paragon of honesty. Ask Bucky about it. Or Sam when we find him. They saw it. Much as I had rathered they didn't."

"Oh, believe me. In that case, I'm going to. And they'll-" She stepped around to see the handsome flush that now covered his whole face, disappearing into the V-neck of his t-shirt. "Wait. You actually did it. Oh my God, you actually did it!" She covered her mouth in exuberant shock.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the pile of onion he'd been slicing. "I… it was to thank her for bringing us our gear. She's… she's definitely Peggy's niece. She had everything… My shield. Sam's wings. Even some protective gear for Bucky. She didn't say how she got it, and I didn't ask, but..." He shook his head, a sad smile playing across his lips. "I… I didn't have anything to give her. She was a hair's breadth from burning her own house down to help us, and I just… I couldn't let it go unacknowledged."

Natasha let that sink in. She could see the guilt dammed behind his eyes, even though he wasn't looking at her. Sharon was another name added to the shamefully long list of those who had gone to bat for him. He'd asked so much of so many people… all just to save Bucky. Natasha. Sam. Clint. Sharon. Wanda. And that guy with the shrinking suit… Lang was his name? This wasn't even his fight. He'd come seemingly out of nowhere as a favor to Sam, or so she'd been given to understand…

Natasha settled her hand between Steve's shoulder blades and gave him a fond scratch that earned her an even softer smile. "Well, if you're not lying, I'm proud of you." she said with a wry twist of her lips.

The mildest of shock and dismay melted over his features at that. Along with a playful smile. And just like that he was bright eyed and laughing again. "I'm not lying! Ask Sam! He'll-"

"But here, look." She grabbed her computer again, placing it on the counter between them. "She's put us at such an advantage. Check out these schematics. Everything is here. Patrol routes. Comms protocols. Defensive capabilities. Even a full personnel roster. She must've known you would eventually go bust this place."

"Did… did she send a message? Say where she was?" Steve asked.

Natasha pulled up short at that. Here they had a goldmine of data for planning their next move and the first question he was asked was about Sharon's whereabouts. And if she'd signed this ever so helpful little note. 

It would always be the people first with him. Always. She needed to remember that. And maybe he had a point. Especially now.

She shook her head. "No. But this came straight from the database. Hell, I'm only sure it's her because I have no idea who else it could be. And because you're so sure."

Steve nodded, returning to his task if only to distract himself.

"Hey, I'm sure she's fine. She can take care of herself." Natasha said, putting her hand on his shoulder again. "And besides. Odds are good, if they catch her, they'll stick her on the Raft, and we can bust her out too. And then you can kiss her again when you inevitably rescue her."

Steve choked on air a little, but his clouded expression cleared as he scraped the last of the onion into a bowl. "But that definitely means we're on a time table, regardless of the weather. No way info like that slipped through without someone eventually catching it."

"Agreed." Natasha sighed, looking around at her little studio. "So much for this place. At least for now. Guess I'll need to clean out my stashes in here… Oh! Speaking of which…"

She scurried around the counter and crouched down near the air vent by her bed. "You asked for one of these." She unscrewed the plate with her fingers and rifled through the contents of the box hidden within. Papers and passports were set aside until she found the object of her quest. A sleek, black flip phone and a handful of cables. "You said you wanted one of these, yeah?"

Steve looked up and nodded before he returned to cracking eggs.

"I'll get it set up while you finish breakfast then." she said returning to the counter and plugging up the phone to her laptop. Then she froze, a keen look flickering in her eyes. "But first… more coffee." And with that she turned back to the espresso machine.

The rest of the day was spent in busy, but amiable fashion. After breakfast, there was a second round of coffee. Then Steve set to work pouring over the Raft schematics layer by layer, teasing out details and complications as Natasha cleaned out her unsurprisingly large number of stashes throughout the little studio apartment. Under the table. In the closet. Under the bed. Another under the bed. Inside the bed. And inside every single air vent, without exception. All of them were emptied out onto the comforter to be sorted and packed into two duffle bags. 

Guns. Knives. More phones. Papers of all sorts. Stacks of assorted cash. And various cases containing everything from medical supplies to tracking bugs to small grenades. It was an impressive collection.

And even more impressive was how she managed to get it all to go back into what was presumably the container it had arrived in. And so quickly, though she was clearly not in any rush. It wasn't even lunchtime and the whole place had been thoroughly stripped down. 

She'd done this before, Steve realized, as he watched her move with deeply seated purpose and planning. This was definitely not the first time she'd had to do this. Just pack her shit and get out of town on a moment's notice. It made his heart hurt, and he promised himself that if he could help it, this would be the last time Natasha Romanoff had to uproot herself and run. But he didn't have time give the instinct more than a cursory acknowledgement before he was back to work picking over communication protocols.

Once her bags were packed, Natasha stepped out to grab lunch and to dead drop the phone. But as she was winding a scarf around her platinum bleached hair and preparing to go, Steve stopped her.

"I hate to ask this." Steve said, his brow pinching as he spoke. "But you're sure this drop will work?"

"I've had this contact since I joined SHIELD. They're a part of Clint's network." She assured him, her voice kindly and patient without being patronizing. "If anyone will get the phone into Tony's hands, they will."

"Can… Would you put this with it?" He asked, passing her an envelope.

"What's this?"

"A letter." he answered. "Nothing incriminating. Just… seemed strange to send just a phone when he has no idea who sent it or why. I mean… he's smart enough to figure it out. I just want… I wanted him to know my intentions. And that I would always answer."

Natasha gave him an understanding nod. "Do you think he'll call?"

Steve's eyes turned glacial as he looked out over the scalding hot Rabat skyline. "Probably not."

She nodded, running a fingernail across the crease of the envelope. "Then why send it?"

He was silent for a long time as he watched the waves of heat rippling up off the city below. Almost so long that Natasha thought her question might go unanswered, which in her book was answer enough. But Steve… Steve was always honest.

"It's like you said. Ball's in his court." he said finally. "He's the injured party so I feel like it's on me to start the process. I will have reached out. Apologized for what I could. And this way... he knows I'm still here for him. Because I want to be. That's the truth and I want to be certain he knows it."

Natasha nodded, something sticking deep in her throat. "I'll… go run this to the drop then. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes. I'd offer for you to come with but-"

"I'd draw too much attention." He gave her a sad sort of smirk. "Besides… duty calls. I have an op to plan." he tapped lightly on the laptop casing.

She nodded again, slipping the phone and the letter into a padded envelope. She'd already sent instructions for pickup and intended destination. She tucked the package under her arm and headed for the door.

"You can read it… if you want." Steve said, when she had the door half open. "I left it unsealed."

Natasha turned, not quite meeting his eyes. Her profile was exquisite set against the blistering afternoon sun. "Do you want me to?"

There was another beat of silence.

"I feel like someone should. Just… Just in case he doesn't."

"He will, Steve." she assured him.

He gave a small, unconvinced bob of his head and returned his eyes back to the Raft schematics.

Natasha read the letter standing right outside the apartment door. It was brief. Almost a little casual and perfunctory in the beginning, but it swiftly cut down to the heart of the matter. Perhaps a little too quick and a little too cleanly if the wounds from Siberia were still raw, and Natasha suspected that they were. But that was Steve. Honest to a fault. Not cruel, but never one to mince words either, and the letter reflected that. A statement of emotion. An apology. An affirmation. 

And last but most certainly not least, a promise. 

Natasha tried to remember back to when she'd sneered at those qualities in Steve. That he seemed too good… too golden to be true. Nothing ever stayed that way. And, perhaps some could argue that indeed they hadn't. He wasn't exactly the shining star-spangled beacon of justice and goodness that he had been back when they were slaughtering Chitauri by the dozens or battling Ultron while evacuating a floating city, bound and determined in both cases to leave no one behind. She may have been a bit reductive in her initial appraising of Captain America. Perhaps her experience with the Soviets and their slavish obsession with nationalistic purity of image. But be that as it may, she hadn't been entirely wrong.

But that didn't mean she was entirely right either. 

She pressed the letter to her chest and heaved a soft sigh. Almost as if she could will those words to write themselves on her ribs, where she'd have them near her heart always. Because, he'd promised her the same as he'd promised Tony… 

"If you need me, I'll be there."

And he always had been.

***

Steve had stashed his cloaked Quinjet not too far out of town in a forested area near the sports complex. Easily reachable by scooter and then on foot for a few miles. Natasha took it as a good sign that it was unmolested when they found it. They climbed aboard, and fell into their usual pre-mission routine as if they'd done it last week. Just like they were back at SHIELD doing all those missions. Natasha set to work securing their gear as Steve started the pre-flight setup. Side by side. No words but easy cohesion. Natural as anything. 

"Someone's been in my locker?" Natasha said, noting that the weapons locker stamped with her name was slightly ajar. "You need something?"

Steve glanced back over his shoulder, a light veil of guilt falling across his face. "Bucky might've borrowed a few things when we got to Siberia." he said sheepishly.

She pulled the drawer open with two fingers, noticing that her M249 SAW was missing, along with several casket magazines and one of her larger combat knives. "Might've known. He always did favor the big guns… or so I understood."

"Sorry for not asking first. I'll see about getting it replaced." he called back as the engines began to whine. "We definitely didn't bring it back from Siberia."

"Eh, don't worry about it. I wasn't really attached." she said, waving vaguely in his direction with one hand as she rifled through her grenade selection with the other. "I won't need anything like that on this op and I really only had it for emergencies anyway. Definitely more his style than mine. Maybe I'll buy him one instead." Natasha pulled a side arm, extra magazines, and a holster before closing her locker. She sidled up to sit in the co-pilot chair just as the reflective cloaking engaged. 

"Looks like the storm is due to be in full swing at 8pm local time." she said, checking one of the nav screens. "Our window should be optimal for getting you in unseen."

"I love how you're the only one who has ever been totally comfortable with the idea of kicking me out of a plane without a parachute." Steve opined as he set the turbines to take them to cruising height.

"To be honest, I'm jealous."

"Yeah?"

"One less thing to have a failsafe for." She said, busying herself with her own set of flight controls. "But I probably couldn't rock that jawline though. So here we are."

Steve gave a startled cough of laughter, hand moving up to bashfully rub his neck.

Natasha shot him a fond smile. "I hope I can always make you do that."

"Do what?"

"Blush when I compliment you." she replied. "It's like you forget… y'know?"

"I… do sometimes." he admitted his smile fading a bit at the edges. "Especially… y'know. Especially with Bucky back in the picture? With him around, I'm… I'm just that sixteen year old kid again… getting into fights. Just all arms… and bad lungs and feelings I didn't quite know what to do with. Even less how to put into words. I was so smitten with him I had no idea what to do."

"You loved him that long?"

He nodded. "Yeah… since… since always. I don't remember not loving him. I don't ever remember looking at him and not suddenly feeling like my lungs were stuck to my ribs. In a good way."

Natasha bobbed her head, certain aspects of his letter to Tony finding alignment with what he was saying. "How is he?" she asked. "Bucky, I mean. You said you left him in Wakanda?"

Steve swallowed against the emotions those recollections had brought to the surface. "He's good. He's alive… He's… his arm is missing, but Jesus... Nat, the tech in Wakanda is incredible. I mean, I was worried before. Without Tony's help, I had no idea how we'd replace it. But the missing arm is the least of his worries now. He'll probably have a new one built inside a week. A better one even! In… in no time flat. T'Challa? He's got this sister named Shuri who's just a genius, and… God, if she and Tony ever meet? She's…" he trailed off realizing what he'd said. That he'd implied that there might be hope somehow...

Natasha reached across the gulf between their seats and took his hand in hers. "I bet that will be something." she said, giving his knuckles a hard squeeze. "He'll come around, Steve. Give it time. It hasn't even been a week yet. It… I imagine it was a hard blow."

Steve nodded though he didn't seem entirely enthusiastic or convinced. "I hope so." was all he could muster.

For awhile there was only silence but for the jet turbines as their little plane flew out over the churning Atlantic. Natasha glanced over, watching the tired lines work their way into Steve's handsome face, cracking his expression like aging varnish. She could feel her heart wringing itself in pity against her ribcage.

"Why don't you go catch a little more sleep while we fly?" she suggested. "There's those medical cots in the back. I'll worry about getting us there."

He nodded, a cavernous yawn overtaking him as he considered it. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Go. I'm good." She replied jerking her head to the back as she stood to take the pilots chair. "Take care of yourself for a change."

Steve nodded, unfolding himself from the chair and heading for the back. "Thanks, Natasha." His hand grazed her shoulder lightly as he passed, and she kissed his knuckles on the way by.

***

"Sixty seconds to optimum drop." Natasha called back over the howling wind.

Steve stood at the precipice, looking down the ramp at the churning waves speeding by below them. They'd broken the storm wall about ten minutes prior and the QuinJet was vibrating under his feet. This storm was going to be a doozy by the time it made landfall across the Atlantic.

It was strange. It suddenly felt as if he was in two places at once. The present and the past. Like a part of him was back working some op with Natasha and STRIKE. Back before everything went to hell with HYDRA and the helicarriers. There had been a strange, calming comfort to it. Traded jibes and talk about custom adjustments on their tactical gear. A certainty that the familiar jet and Natasha's dependable, rational presence brought him. He could close his eyes and it was almost the same.

And yet it was different. For better and for worse.

He guessed that HYDRA being out of the picture here was certainly for the better.

He certainly looked different now. No red white and blue. No star on his chest. No shield. Just a black, kevlar lined wetsuit over his regular clothes, and Natasha's Widow's Bite harness snaking across his back and fastening at his wrists. His surroundings felt familiar, but his own skin felt strange. It looked strange. He would need to find another alternative to his star spangled suit soon… maybe.

"Sync beacon and comms on my mark." Natasha shouted from the cockpit, one hand on the controls the other on her comm board. "Mark!"

Steve pressed the two side buttons on his ear piece. "Comm check." he said mechanically, as he had dozens of times before. Another bit of familiarity to wrap around his mind.

"Check is good." came her voice in his ear. "We'll be on blackout until you get their jammers down, but it should come straight back online as soon as you do. Drop in thirty."

"Comms is my first stop. Hopefully."

"Understood." she replied. "Give 'em hell, Steve. Drop on my mark. Stand by!"

"Standing by."

"And Steve?"

He looked back to find her staring at him over her shoulder, blonde hair whipping in the wind. "Yeah?"

"Be careful." she said, that sweetly open look in her eyes for the briefest moment.

He felt a quirk of a smile pull at his mouth as he gave a small two-fingered salute. "You too, Natasha."

She answered his smile in kind before she gave a brief, curt nod, her eyes sealing over again. "On my mark."

Steve turned back to the open hatch, squaring his shoulders and positioning himself to jump.

"Mark!"

And he jumped.

The wind was deafening and the rain stung his face, but only for an instant. It was all gone when he hit the surface of the water. It felt like plowing into concrete, and it took him a worrying number of strokes for him to reach the surface of the water. Even then his first breath was half air and half an unexpected wave of cold salt water. But he could see the lights of the Raft between the cresting waves, and he paddled for it with all his considerable strength.

It was definitely not a place made to be entered from sea level. And certainly not meant to be climbed. But it was nothing Natasha's grappling gun couldn't solve. Normally, Steve would have worried about the noise. He would have checked and rechecked the patrol schedule and fired the hook when the impact was least likely to be heard. But in this storm, a missile could go off on one side of the Raft and the men patrolling the opposite would likely miss it if they weren't looking.

Steve scaled the side with ease, and took care of the outside patrols in minutes, each punch delivering a sizeable shock and knocking the guards to the ground. Steve actually smiled to himself after the third one. It was nice to not have to deal with the guilt of causing actual injury. Maybe he should put in for a pair. 

But then he remembered who made them, and the smile turned to a grit of teeth.

Maybe one day. One thing at a time.

One by one, he cleaned out the patrols and guard towers, starting at the outside and working his way in. Thanks to the storm, he didn't raise a single alarm until he reached the comm deck, but by then no one was left but non-combatant personnel. It was easy. Like the Lemurian Star all over again.

Once the jammer was disabled and the EMP was offline, Steve paused in front of the wall-sized screen in the comms room to take stock. The screen was divided into six panels showing feeds from various security cameras. Each camera was trained on one cell in the holding bay, and then another on the central hallway. The sight on the video feed… the story it told took his breath, and for a moment he just made himself watch. Made himself see what had become of his allies… his _friends_ at his behest. 

Clint paced slowly in a circle around and around his cell, keen eyes searching for exploits for what must've been the thousandth revolution. Scott, on the other hand, appeared for all the world to be sound asleep. Sam was awake, leaned against the back wall, sullen eyes staring out at nothing. And Wanda…

The sight froze Steve's heart in his chest, sending it plummeting like a stone into his boots.

She sat upright on her bed with her back to the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were shadowed and half open. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her arms were bound around her waist in a straight jacket, and around her throat was a metal collar with a steadily blinking light. 

Anger flooded Steve's consciousness in a blinding haze. She was a child. Barely eighteen and without having even scratched the surface of what her powers meant or how they could be used. And they had just muzzled her like an animal. The sight infuriated him. He could practically taste the rage building. Feel it thudding along with his pulse in the back of his throat, strangling out all coherent thought.

But even more enraging was the sight on the last camera. A single empty cell. Just one. Just like all the others. Presumably for him.

Apparently, they weren't planning to bring Bucky here which meant...

For the briefest of moments, Steve wished he hadn't bothered with Natasha's electrified cuffs. Anyone who worked on this God forsaken hunk of metal deserved the beating he would gladly and righteously give them before tossing them in the sea. He would batter his knuckles bloody on every single skull…

But that was the guilt talking. The guilt that ultimately drove this blinding rage. He'd done this to them. Sure they'd volunteered. Even Bucky had volunteered to follow him onto that train. But what they'd all volunteered for was him. His crusades. His stubborn refusal to give up his freedom of choice. His undying loyalty to Bucky. And he'd let them take the fall. This was all on him.

Steve took a slow, deliberate breath. And then another. And then another... feeling the air stretch his lungs and ease the stiffening rage and clawing guilt from his body. It wasn't helpful. And more importantly, it wasn't who he was. He wasn't here for vengeance, he tried to dispassionately remind himself. He was here to rescue his allies. The people who had stuck their neck out for someone they believed was doing the right thing. He'd let them take the fall but now he was here to do right by them, and he would. His anger wasn't going to solve anything. Only action would.

"Natasha, do you read?" he said, moving to the computer that controlled the comms array.

"Loud and clear!" came her relieved voice in his ear. "What's your status?"

"Jammers are down, EMPs are offline, and the flash drive is about to be set to broadcast.” He pulled the drive from his belt. “Stand by… Our thirty minute extraction window starts…" The drive clicked into the slot. "Now."

"Roger that." she replied. "Swinging around to land."

"Meet me in the cell bay. All doors will be unlocked."

"Understood." Her voice crackled in his ear.

Steve took off like a shot down the hall, winding through the Raft's maze of identical passages until he found the plate steel and ballistics glass door that separated the prison cells from the rest of the facility. For a moment, he considered testing it to see if it could really keep him out if he wanted in by brute force. But then he remembered the collar around Wanda's neck. No telling what sort of conditions that was set to blow under. Better to go the safe route.

The codes Sharon had provided them worked like a charm, as did the ID badge he pilfered from the unconscious chief communications officer. The door slid open and Steve stepped inside. The sound of the door had only garnered Sam's attention, but he smiled when his friend stepped forward out of the shadowed hallway.

"Well well well. Look who finally decided to show up." he crowed, his face split with a good natured grin.

"No way… you came to bust us out?" Clint cantered over to his own set of bars, threading his forearms through to lean as far forward as possible. "Good to see you, Cap!"

"Huh? What?" Scott grumbled groggily. "Lunch time alrea- CAP! Captain America! Hi! Holy shit, you're here!"

Steve couldn't repress a laugh as he rotated through the list of pass codes. "Hi everyone. Sorry I'm late. Let me get you guys out of here."

He headed for Wanda's cell first. She'd been silent this whole time, a sad smile playing on her haggard face.

"Hey, Wanda." he greeted. "I'm going to get you out of here okay?"

"Not if you don't have a way to get this collar off me you aren't." she replied, her accent hanging thick with exhaustion on every syllable. "It's rigged to blow under a dozen conditions. Mostly ones that involve me staying in this cell, with my hands secure."

"Alright. Well, you just sit tight then okay? Natasha is coming behind me and she'll have you out of it in no time." he assured her, swiping the card and entering the code. "Can I come in?"

"You've got the security card, so yes."

Steve crossed the threshold and pulled her into a tight hug, smoothing her hair and cradling her against his chest. He felt her give in his arms, melting almost instantly into a wilted sag until he was supporting almost all her weight. "I'm so sorry." he whispered against the canvas of her straight jacket. "I had no idea-"

"I did." she replied, her tone was bitter but there was no malice in it. 

"Wanda…"

"It's alright." she said with a shake of her head. "This… I'll be alright. I just hope Natasha can get this thing off."

"She will." Clint assured her. He'd been staring at the two of them steadily, watching the whole exchange, hands wringing together where they hung outside the bars. "I heard you right? You said Natasha's coming?" he asked Steve, who gave a nod over top of Wanda’s head. He hadn't let go of her quite yet and she seemed more than content where she was.

"That's a relief. And a surprise given our last encounter." Sam said.

"She's… swapped sides. Sort of." Steve said. 

"I knew she would come around." Clint said with a cocky grin. "She wasn't too banged up was she? Wanda sent her flying." He winked goodnaturedly at Wanda making her look away to hide a pleased smile.

"She's fine. Just bruises." Steve replied as Wanda relaxed back against the wall again, not quite putting herself out of reach. He took the opportunity to fuss about, smoothing Wanda's hair out of her face. She smiled up at him, weary but much brighter than when he'd first arrived. "I'm going to go get everyone else out. You sit tight. Nat's on her way." She nodded in response.

Steve made quick work of the rest of the cells, and the other Avengers stepped out into the main hub. All but Wanda who remained on her bunk, cross-legged now and staring expectantly at the main door. As Scott came wandering out to join them, yawning and stretching, Natasha trotted into the room.

"Hi everybody." she said, a little sheepishly. “Sorry about-“

Clint rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her close, lifting her off her feet for a moment. He pressed their faces together, nose to forehead before kissing her gently on the temple. 

"You're a sight for sore eyes." he told her.

"Likewise." she answered, knitting her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. "Laura is going to kill you."

"I know." he pulled back from the embrace, but held her firmly by the shoulders. "You alright?"

"I'm good." she assured him with a firm squeeze of his forearms.

"The hell happened to your hair?" he laughed, winding a blonde lock around one callused finger.

"I was laying low in Morocco as a rich French housewife after Berlin."

"Fancy."

"Hey Natasha?" Steve cut in gently. "We've got a bit of a situation over here with Wanda."

She pecked Clint on the cheek before disentangling herself and heading for Wanda's cell. 

"Sam, Clint, Scott. You guys head up the hall and take a right." Steve instructed. "There's a supply locker there. You can probably find changes of clothes and some rain slickers. We kind of used a hurricane to cover our approach so you're liable to get wet between the front door and the jet. Meet back here. Bring a set of clothes for Wanda. We are out of here in twenty."

"Copy that." Sam called, and the trio headed for the main door.

"Hey." she greeted, and Wanda gave her a stiff but not unkind smile. "Tell me what's going on with this." She flicked her eyes to the collar and back up.

"The collar is rigged to blow under a series of conditions." Wanda replied darkly. " If I leave the cell. If I use my powers. If the air pressure changes too much. I once got a warning for coughing." 

"No wonder you don't look like you've slept well." Natasha remarked dryly. 

That actually got something close to a genuine smile out of Wanda, and Steve just had to shake his head. He would never quite get the Eastern European brand of pitch black humor. But if it got Wanda to smile, he would be the last one to argue.

"Here… turn so I can see the back." Natasha sat down on the bed and pulled Wanda around so she could get to the back of the apparatus. "Now, is the trigger automatic, or does it require an actual human being to blow?"

"A little of both, I think." was the response. "Certain things make it blow automatically, or so I was told. Leaving the cell or trying to remove it primarily. But anything else required someone from the control room to blow it." She cast her eyes forlornly up at the camera watching her cell.

"Well, good news on that front. Everyone on this thing that isn't us is currently having a nap." Steve made a show of examining the Widow's Bite cuffs on his wrists as Natasha worked.

"They're nice right?" Natasha cut him a smile.

"Better than nice."

"You have to give them back. I'm pretty sure Tony isn't making me another pair."

"You should show them to T'Challa's sister." Steve suggested.

"The guy with the panther suit?" Wanda cut in. "He's on… our side now?"

Both Steve and Natasha laughed. "It's been a long few days." he said. "Though… longer for you, I imagine. We'll get you filled in."

As they'd talked, Natasha had pulled Wanda's hair to the side and opened the velcro flap that covered the internal mechanism connecting the collar and the vest. She reached into the pouch on her belt and produced a tiny set of intricate electronic tools and a flashlight no bigger than Steve's finger.

"Alright. You're on light duty." She told Steve, clicking on the flashlight and passing it to him. "Just do your best to keep my hands from casting a shadow."

Steve gave a short, focused nod. "Got it."

"What's the time?" she asked, not looking up.

Steve checked his watch, holding the flashlight steady in his other hand. "Eighteen minutes exactly."

Natasha cocked her head at the trail of wires snaking down Wanda's back, gave a considering nod, then set to work.

"What happens in eighteen minutes?" Wanda asked, looking up at Steve but remaining still otherwise.

"The Raft sinks to the bottom of the Atlantic." he told her with a small note of pride. "There's a fail safe in place. They have to check in over comms every five minutes or this whole place fills with water and sinks. I had half an hour of check ins on a thumbdrive and it's running on the comm deck."

Wanda's face clouded with worry. "Will she have enough-"

"Oh, I'm done." Natasha replied, as she flipped the latch on the collar and set to work stowing her tools back on her belt.

"Already?" Wanda's hand went to her neck, and sure enough, the collar hung there limp and useless.

"It was a really simple wiring job." Natasha said. "Honestly, it was dangerous, but it was more for show than anything. Hell, Clint could have undone it with a hairpin and his teeth."

"Is it weird that that makes me more angry?" Steve asked.

"Yes, but only because I agree, and I'm the definition of weird." Wanda replied, craning back to look at Natasha. "Can I pull this off?"

"You're good. Go for it." Natasha confirmed.

After she was finished wriggling out of the straight jacket, Wanda stretched her arms for the first time in days, listening with relish as her joints popped. As the trio stepped out into the main hub, Sam and company returned with clothes. 

"Time?" Natasha asked, smartly cutting her eyes to Steve.

"Twelve minutes." Steve replied. "Throw the raincoats on. You guys can change on the planes. Let's head upstairs." They all gave short nods and turned back out into the hallway.

"Planes?" Natasha parrotted with a drawn frown, trailing after Steve as he brought up the rear of their little herd.

"I've got to get back to Wakanda." Steve said. "And these guys, particularly Clint and Scott… they've got families. They need to go home."

"Clint can fly the Quinjet. Shouldn't I-"

"No, because after you drop them off, I have a job for you. For you and Sam, actually."

"I'm listening." she replied as Sam, having heard his name, fell back into stride next to them.

"We don't have Stark. We don't have SHIELD. Our gear is a precious advantage. Probably the only one we will have, so we can't do without it."

"Okay. Where is it?" Sam asked. 

"I have no idea." Steve answered. "But Sharon Carter might have one."

"Fair enough." Sam shrugged. "She shouldn't be too hard to find. Right, Natasha?"

"Oh! Sam, that reminds me." Natasha said, clapping her hands together once and turning to him with a sly look in her eye. "I have a very important question for you about what happened in Berlin. It's a matter of utmost importance."

Sam straightened a little. "Sure. What is it?"

"Oh Christ, Natasha, no." Steve could already sense that Clint and Scott's ears had perked up, and Wanda was actually walking backwards to hear the conversation.

Sam's face split in a ridiculous grin. "Okay, now I have to know."

"Did Steve kiss Sharon Carter back in Berlin?" 

"Natasha, no!"

"Yeah, he did and-" Sam drew up short, squinting pointedly at her. "Wait, you're not jealous are you? Because I don't want to start another inter-Avengers war all on account of-"

"Oh, I'm not jealous. I'm just curious." she answered, hands spread and eyes sparkling. "He was actually under orders that if she came through for you guys that he was to-"

"Okay, you know what, Romanoff-"

"Oh! Well, in that case, it was with tongues and everything." Sam expounded, rich gleeful laughter coloring his voice. "Let me tell you. Barnes and I were scandalized. Practically had sex with her right there on the hood of the-"

"SAM!" Steve shouted, flushing to the roots of his hair as Sam burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the walls and infecting the others as well. Even Wanda was giggling, bumping into Clint as they all hurried for the exit.

But Sam sobered quickly as a fresh thought crossed his mind. "Speaking of Barnes, how is he? We… we got no word on anything."

Steve looked around, willing the blush to fade from his cheeks. He noticed everyone was still listening intently, interested to hear how the man they'd all spent a few days in a floating prison for was doing. "He's… he's okay. He's in Wakanda actually… T'Challa he- There's a lot to catch you guys up on, honestly, if you've really had no news. Natasha can fill a lot of it in for you."

"Did Tony make it to Siberia?" Sam asked. "I'm guessing Zemo's been dealt with."

"T'Challa has him. And yes. Tony did make it to Siberia. That's… that's sort of where it all went sideways. Zemo told him that one of Bucky's… marks as the Winter Soldier's was Tony's parents. And… well, when I didn't seem surprised I had to confess that I knew. Because I had seen Bucky's file."

"Oh geez." Clint moaned dropping his head back.

"So… that didn't exactly go all that great. I mean… the other Winter Soldiers were dealt with, which was good. But that was actually Zemo's doing." Steve went on. "They were just a distraction tactic. What Zemo really wanted to do was start a war. Eliminate at least one of us… either Tony or me. He almost succeeded. Bucky lost his metal arm. But not before he trashed Tony's suit. And I… left my shield behind. So… yeah. Not great."

There was a pregnant pause, punctuated only by footsteps and the steady hum of overhead lighting. 

"Well… we're all alive." Scott chimed in. "And… we're going home. That's not nothing."

"I'll give that to you." Clint replied with a waffling sort of shrug.

"Yeah... " the word was little more than a sigh as Steve paused with the rest of them at the outer door. "At least we're all going home…" They had stopped to pull on their rain jackets. Steve's was a tight fit across his shoulders but it would keep him dry until he got in the jet. Once he got it zipped, he straightened and faced them. "I know I'll never be finished making this up to you guys, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. And thank you."

There was no shortage of passive waving and murmured rebuttals.

"Hey, thanks for not leaving us behind, Cap." Scott said cheerfully. He still looked for all the world like a kid on a field trip. "I'm gonna be glad to see my little girl."

"You bet." he replied, shaking his hand. "I appreciate your help."

"Any time!" he replied brightly. "Seriously!"

"Steve… thanks for coming through." Clint chimed in, following suit with a handshake for Steve. "And for bringing her around." he nodded to Natasha.

"Oh, I had nothing to do with that." Steve replied, a smile cracking across his face. "Ross burned that bridge all on his own."

With a final squeeze of his hand, Clint paused with Natasha, embracing her and murmuring something in her ear that Steve couldn't hear before he headed for the door. But he lingered there, obviously waiting for Wanda.

"Thank you." Wanda whispered as she moved in to give Steve a hug. She practically disappeared in his muscled arms, hanging on for just a second and relishing the first unrestrained physical contact she'd had in days.

"I should be thanking you.” He replied. “I really had no idea that they would go to these extremes."

"Well… now we all know for sure. And I promise I'll be careful. Wherever I end up."

"You should go with Clint for now, I think.” Steve suggested. “His farm is secure enough. Get some rest and then make up your mind about your next move. You've got all the time in the world."

She gave a considering nod. "Maybe not all the time… but I like that plan. Haven't seen the farm yet. It will probably do me some good." she lifted a hand and curled her fingers in a cute little wave. "Bye Steve."

Sam moved in right on her heels for a tight hug. "I'm glad Barnes made it out." He said against the creaky plastic of Steve’s rain jacket.

"Me too."

"It would suck for you to lose him again after you worked so hard to find him."

"Thanks for your help with that part too… by the way."

"You ain't gotta thank me." Sam replied. "You know I'm always in your corner."

"Well… thanks for that, then." Steve smiled. 

"We're going to find our gear and then we are headed back to you." Sam said, a note of seriousness stretching tight in his voice. "Wherever you are."

"Natasha's got my number. She'll know where to find me." the two exchanged wry but earnest smiles.

"Yeah, I bet she does." Sam smirked, throwing out one elbow to bump against his. "Take care of yourself."

Steve barely swallowed a blush. "You too, Sam."

And he was out the door, leaving just Steve and Natasha in the hall. She looked up at him with that open expression that he loved, though it was overlaid with the faintest veil of apprehension. Steve caressed her face, painting a line with one knuckle that ran from temple to jawbone.

"Take care of them." he said. "And Sharon too, when you find her."

"I will." she replied, puddling her hands against his sternum to feel his heartbeat against her palms. "Call me… when you've got a plan. When you know what's next."

"I will." he echoed. "I need to see Bucky. And hear what the labs in Wakanda have turned up about his… issues. But I'll call you the minute I know something, I promise."

She smiled, just a faint pull at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I'm getting the distinct impression that this is going to end up being just like old times. Back when you ran ops for SHIELD, and I skulked around in your shadow." she mused, rocking with him for a moment. "Maybe better than old times."

He cocked his head. "Better how?"

"Well… It's like you said way back in DC. For the first time I'm going to be sure exactly whose war I'm fighting." she answered the smile on her lips blossoming in full. "And that is going to be very, very nice."

Steve mirrored her, but only a fraction. "I certainly hope so." He looked down, his eyes catching on his hands where his wrists were still cuffed with her Widow's Bite.

"Did you need these back?" he held up his wrists for her to see.

She shook her head. "You hang on to them. Take them to Shuri. I bet she'll have a field day."

"I bet she will." Steve agreed.

His watch chimed and he glanced down out of instinct.

"Five minutes?" Natasha asked.

"Five minutes." he confirmed, the line of his mouth tightening slightly.

She heaved a sharp, heavy sigh as she stared out into the deluge beyond the thick pane of glass in the door. "Say it."

"You first."

She gave a strange little nod, carefully studying the tops of her boots before she looked up into his eyes. "Be careful, Steve." she said, the words as laden as they always were. But there was a smile in her voice, and she allowed it to creep into her eyes as well. "Say hello to Bucky and to T'Challa for me."

Steve echoed her nod, a jerky and formal motion that was tight with self restraint. "You be careful too, Nat. Say hi to Sharon. Keep your phone on you."

"Always do." she answered as she raised up on tiptoes and laid a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips. They both sighed together, a little relief working its way between them now that at least one priority was checked off their list, and some semblance of a long range plan was in motion. Even if it was an incomplete one. Then with a smart little swivel of her shoulders, she headed out the door with him close on her heels. Steve could have sworn she actually had to push herself out of his orbit. And he couldn't deny that he didn't want her to go either.

But priorities were priorities.

Out on the deck, barely sheltered from the pounding, wind-chased rain by an awning, Natasha looked up at him with a theatrically concerned frown. "So should I also kiss Sharon for you when I get our gear, or-"

"Natasha!" Steve exclaimed, going for a jab to the ribs but she jumped out of reach, scampering out into deluge. The sound of roaring engines and rain on metal grates slowly drowned out the sound of her giddy, satisfied laughter as she ran for the Quinjet.

***


	5. Go Back, My Child.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve landed in Wakanda shortly before the sun had truly begun to set, having flown all night and most of that day. He'd anticipated being tired after the fight to take the Raft and from the stress of the unexpected complication of disarming Wanda's jacket, but he wasn't. Not even a little bit. He felt strangely light. Almost giddy. Maybe it was the drop following the adrenaline-fueled tension of the mission. And that's probably what he'd cop to in polite company.
> 
> But down in his heart, which was now kicking insistently against his ribs as the immense panther statue near the palace came into view, he knew he was just excited to see Bucky again. Shuri would undoubtedly still be running tests and asking endless questions, but Steve just wanted to see him. That was really all. Not for anything other than just… to be together. Just the two of them. Maybe steal a few moments. That's all he dared hope for at present. To see Bucky let his ironclad guard down for just a minute, and smile like when they were kids…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all! Happy Monday!
> 
> Apologies for this chapter being a little late. It's a big one (over 13k! Whew!) so the editing process was a little longer. This is a very Bucky/Steve centric chapter just so everyone's aware. I'm very pleased with how it turned out though a lot of the writing process on this section was just me screaming "WILL YOU JUST HAVE SEX ALREADY!?"
> 
> Many thanks to my long-suffering beta-reader KaminaDuck. I couldn't do this without his input... which mostly consists of him gently telling me, "It's fine. Just publish it already!"
> 
> And that you all for your kudos and comments! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.
> 
> Enjoy this week's update and I'll see you all next Monday! (hopefully on time this time...)

***

_Go back, my child, to the rain and storm,_  
_For in this house there is sorrow and pain_  
_In the lonely night._

***

Steve landed in Wakanda shortly before the sun had truly begun to set, having flown all night and most of that day. He'd anticipated being tired after the fight to take the Raft and from the stress of the unexpected complication of disarming Wanda's jacket, but he wasn't. Not even a little bit. He felt strangely light. Almost giddy. Maybe it was the drop following the adrenaline-fueled tension of the mission. And that's probably what he'd cop to in polite company.

But down in his heart, which was now kicking insistently against his ribs as the immense panther statue near the palace came into view, he knew he was just excited to see Bucky again. Shuri would undoubtedly still be running tests and asking endless questions, but Steve just wanted to see him. That was really all. Not for anything other than just… to be together. Just the two of them. Maybe steal a few moments. That's all he dared hope for at present. To see Bucky let his ironclad guard down for just a minute, and smile like when they were kids…

Like he had on the Quinjet.

Their conversation as they'd flown to Siberia played in his head over and over again.

 _"Say it again."_ Bucky had practically begged, straining forward in his seat. Steve didn't think he'd ever heard him beg for anything in his life. _"I want it to be true and I remember you saying it back then but I… I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to trust it. Not until I heard you say it. Say it again."_

Steve's stomach did a little flip every time he thought about it. How the life had come back into Bucky's eyes when Steve had told him that he wasn't imagining things. That nothing had changed, even though everything had changed. They were still just a couple of scrappy kids from Brooklyn; one dark-eyed and cocky, and the other one skinny, a little dour, and always spoiling for a fight. And both of them desperately in love with each other from now to Judgement Day. That was never changing. Not with time. Not with war. Not with all the world against them. It was something that would not and could not be changed.

After landing, Steve exited the Quinjet almost at a jog to be met by a small contingent of the Dora Milaje and their General, Okoye.

"Good afternoon, Captain Rogers." she greeted with a soldier’s warm certitude, immediately noting the poorly repressed smile on his face. "I take it your mission was successful?"

"It was, General, thank you." he replied. "The Raft currently occupies the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Clint, Wanda, and Scott are all headed home, and Natasha and Sam are retrieving our gear from whatever vault the UN is currently storing it in."

"Excellent news all around, then." she said, extending one long arm and directing him towards the palace. "I am sorry that his Highness could not be here to greet you personally. The death of his father was unexpected to say the least, and so we are still playing catch up in regard to the succession of power. And of course, there is the extradition of Zemo to deal with."

"I understand. Please, don't let him or anyone here be put out on my account. I'm incredibly grateful for your hospitality and discretion. Will you please let him know how thankful I am, and if there's anything I can do-"

"It is no trouble, Captain." Okoye assured him. "I'm assuming you would like to go see Sergeant Barnes? We can see to your things and have a room prepared."

"That would be really great. Thank you. How… how is he?"

"Well, Shuri is fascinated to the point of insomnia, so that's usually a good sign." Okoye replied, pulling the palace door open and nodding to the Dora Milaje posted inside. "I'm sure she will have more to tell you than I could. I have not had the opportunity to speak with him much."

"I understand. It's… been a trying week for your country to put it mildly."

"King T'Chaka's death was wholly unexpected, and caught all of us unprepared from the Prince to the kitchen staff to the herdsmen far afield. But… T'Challa…" A fond smile turned her lips. "I've known him all his life. Growing up, I almost viewed him like the kid brother I never had. I'm privileged to have the opportunity to look after him now as I did when we were children. He was a good boy who has grown into a good man."

"He is a good man." Steve agreed, following her along a winding corridor to a spiral staircase leading down. He almost didn't want to touch the bannister as, like everything in Wakanda, it was covered with the most delicate and intricate traceries and patterns. "He's capable of changing himself to fit the truth as he learns it. That's not always easy to do."

"We Wakandans come from a place of deep tradition. So I hear the truth in your words." Okoye said earnestly. "T'Challa's adaptability will serve him well as the world changes. And as Wakanda changes with it. Though we dearly wish it were under different circumstances, we eagerly anticipate his rise to the throne. And none did so more than his own father."

The pair of Dora Milaje flanking the glass doors of the lab saluted with their arms across their chests before they pulled them open as they neared. Again, Okoye nodded to them and mirrored the gesture, and strangely Steve felt himself nearly follow suit on instinct. 

Soldiers were soldiers, he mused. No matter the tradition or location.

"Shuri! You have a visitor." Okoye called into the lab. "Or more to the point, Sergeant Barnes has a visitor."

Shuri's head, wreathed in thickly cabled braids, appeared from behind a bank of monitors. For a moment, just as when they first met, Steve was taken aback by her age. When he'd first arrived at the palace, everyone had kept mentioning that T'Challa had a genius little sister, but he hadn't imagined it was a kid sister. She couldn't be a day over fifteen. But she ran her lab like Okoye ran the Dora Milaje, which spoke of a maturity buried somewhere under her playful braids and shining eyes."

"Captain Rogers!" she cried, bounding around the desk. She skidded to a stop in front of Okoye, quickly adopting a slightly forced but earnestly polite tone. "Thank you for seeing him down, General."

"My pleasure, Princess." Okoye smiled, saluted, and saw herself out.

Shuri watched Okoye go, and once she was out of earshot and around the corner of the hall, she threw her willowy arms around Steve's neck in a fierce, exuberant hug. "It's good to see you again, Captain. How did things go on the Raft?" 

"Went off without a hitch." He replied, finding her youthful mirth infectious. "Sam and Natasha are seeing to retrieving our gear from the UN, and the rest are headed back to figure out what shape their life will take now."

"Well… any friend of yours is welcome in Wakanda." She said. "And speaking of which, Sergeant Barnes is this way. We've been doing tests all morning so he decided to take a walk in the garden while I crunched through the data."

"What sorts of tests?"

"Basic cognitive and physical function. Nothing fancy. Just establishing a baseline and examining the neural network in place for his metal arm. It's impressive… for the Soviets in the 1950s anyway."

Steve snorted at the remark, but quickly sobered again. "How is he?"

She gave a weaving sort of nod. "He's good. A little stunned still. Occasionally gets slightly confused about things. Old memories. What order events happened in. Stuff like that. I only need to give him a minute, and he can work it out for himself. And it's never the same issue twice, which is a very good sign. He's doing well all things considered. He's anxious for me to be able to do my work. I've never had a patient be so cooperative. But then again, usually my only patient is my idiot brother. This way." She led him out through a pair of arched plate glass doors that opened out to a small stone garden full of flowering shrubs. "This is my mother's garden."

"It's wonderful." Steve replied, his voice gone airy and thin. He wasn't talking about the vibrant, unfamiliar flowers, or the rich greenery. The perfectly fitted stones or the babbling water in the fountain. Or even the gauzy, golden glow of the impending sunset, which was setting up to be spectacular.

No… He'd spied Bucky leaning on the far end of the half wall that separated the terraces of the garden from the rest of the courtyard. Steve felt himself root to the spot at the sight. The sunlight in Bucky's hair. The ease of his posture. The familiar juxtaposed with the new. Just… everything. It all overwhelmed him at once.

"You're worse than my idiot brother when he sees the spy he insists isn't his girlfriend." Shuri snarked, rolling her eyes. "I'll be in the lab if you need me."

"Thank you, Shuri." Steve said with a slow nod, his eyes never leaving Bucky.

Just a few days in Wakanda, and he already looked so much better than when Steve had first found him in Romania. His hair was clean and pulled back from his scruffy face, though a few wispy tendrils escaped to cut across his cheeks. His skin was already turning a healthy burnished bronze from the sun, just like it would every summer when they were kids. And his eyes sparkled in the golden afternoon light.

Especially when he saw Steve. He smiled, eyes gleaming as he straightened and waved. And Steve's heart, or maybe just the ice around it, cracked with relief at the sight of that smile. It was the one he had wanted to see when he got back. The one that took him back to Brooklyn, and busy streets, and scraping by, and always having each other.

And back to the Quinjet...

Steve didn't even bother to wave back. He took off across the garden like a shot, boots pounding on the paving stones until he reached Bucky who caught him in the crook of his arm and reeled him in for a crushing hug. Steve felt something twisted and knotted come unraveled as Bucky squeezed him around his ribs. Even missing an arm, his embrace felt familiar. Steve cradled the back of his head, his other hand splayed out between his shoulder blades, and they held on and on for what seemed like forever. 

"Everything go okay?" Bucky asked finally, the words puffing out against Steve's shoulder as he was still unwilling to let go.

Steve nodded as much as he was able. "Perfectly." he replied. "Got everyone out and let that fucking place sink to the bottom of the ocean. Natasha and Sam will be on their way here once they get our gear back."

Steve felt Bucky nod against his chest as he wormed his way impossibly closer, burying his face against the crook of his neck. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too." Steve pulled back a little, but Bucky followed him, staying tucked under one arm as Steve turned to look out over the palace courtyard. "Everyone asked about you. I wish you could have been there to help me spring them. It would have done them good to see you actually. Especially Wanda. They… gave her a particularly hard time. You know… because of what she can do."

"With only one arm, I'd be dead weight." Bucky replied, shaking his head a little.

"That's not true." Steve retorted, with a roll of his eyes. How could Bucky be dead weight when he'd been the center of this whole endeavor? The center of everything for Steve...

But it wasn’t worth an argument. Not even a playful one. They both sighed, drinking in the beautiful landscape as their arms tightened around each other.

"Did you tell them what happened in Siberia?" Bucky asked finally.

"Natasha gave them the short version." he answered. "I figured I would let you fill in the details if you wanted to. It's… that's your story to share, if Tony doesn't beat you to it."

Bucky swallowed, and Steve could feel the frown drawing across his face like a window shade.

"What is it?" Steve asked, pulling back with a matching frown of his own.

Bucky's eyes flicked up to his face and then back down to the paving stones. "It just... may be awhile. Possibly."

The creases on his brow deepened. "What do you mean?"

Bucky heaved a heavy sigh, turning to look up at him. "I need to go back under, Steve. Back… back on ice. Until they can work out what's wrong with me… whatever bullshit is still knocking around in my skull..."

Steve felt his heart drop into his boots. "Bucky…"

"I know, but hear me out." his hand tightened on Steve's hip. "Shuri and the doctors here… they've got cryostasis in medical just like HYDRA's, but it's better. Safer. They have some more testing to do, and Shuri says it'll go easier on me if I'm under while they do it so I figure why not just stay that way til it's fixed? They…" He looked guiltily up at Steve. "I would have gone under already but… I wanted to see you. In case..."

"You're afraid." Steve supplied.

Bucky gave a meandering shake of his head, eyes staring off at nothing. "All that HYDRA programming? It's still in there." He tapped his temple with a finger before cutting a fleeting glance up to Steve's face. "We… did a couple of brief tests with it. Nothing dangerous, but enough to know for sure it's in there. Until we find a way to undo it, if the wrong person gets that book… or, God forbid, there's copies of it? I'm a danger to everyone. I'm a danger to you." He was visibly fighting to make himself look at Steve. Not into his eyes but at the livid bruise that still marred his otherwise perfect cheekbone. He looked for a moment like he was considering touching it. "I don't want to wake up with my arm in a vise, with bodies to account for, and you with a fresh set of bruises again."

Steve nodded, a jerky abortive motion that seemed totally unconvinced, but willing all the same if this was his friend's decision. Or perhaps resigned was a better word. What had Peggy said? About allowing him the dignity of his choice? This was certainly a far cry from dying to further Steve's cause. But all the same, he was quiet for a long time, his arm tightening around Bucky's shoulder. The sharp metal of the socket joint ate into his fingers, even through the sleeve, but he didn't care. It was grounding in a way to feel the edges of the metal against his skin. 

"It's not forever, Steve." Bucky assured him gently, clearly understanding what he was asking of Steve. "Shuri seems convinced she can fix it, and we've got no reason to doubt her as far as I can see. She's young but she's sharp as a tack. If they did it there's a way to undo it, is what she keeps saying. It's just… It's safer this way. I want it fixed. I… I don't want to hurt anyone again. Ever."

Steve nodded again clearly wanting to argue but lacking any sort of argument to wield. Bucky's reasoning was sound. And more importantly, even if there was another way, this was what Bucky wanted.

"Let me have one night with you then?" Steve settled on saying, not able to make the request and look at Bucky at the same time. He buried his face in his hair and inhaled. He was asking for more than he'd even dared to hope for. But… It was Bucky. "Just… for old time's sake? We don't have to-"

"I was hoping you'd insist." Bucky cut him off with a smile that was all teeth and shining eyes in spite of everything. As if it was the best news he'd ever heard.

He took Steve by the hand, tangling their fingers together and dragging him out of the garden, up a flight of stairs to a small suite that overlooked the same courtyard. And with arms slung around each other the whole way. It felt like the old days. Sure, Steve was a little taller. No… a lot taller. And Bucky was broader through the shoulders than he ever had been, even missing an arm. But they still fit together with a practiced ease, their new bodies finding a sort of balance that had nothing to do with size or shape and everything to do with how badly they needed each other.

"This is your room?" Steve asked as Bucky popped the latch on the door and showed him in. His eyebrows migrated up towards his hairline as he took in the cavernous painted ceiling. No walls. No windows. Just an open room with multiple arch ways leading out onto the balcony. Sunlight streamed in unabated, painting golden strokes across the beautifully tiled floor.

"Yep. And yours is next door. Right through there." He pointed to another door that adjoined to the next suite. "Hope you… don't mind."

"Not at all." Steve laughed. "I won't even need it tonight. That is if..." 

The question died on Steve's lips as Bucky pivoted in his grip slightly, head falling slightly to one side as if to ask for something of his own. He'd licked his lips, making them rosy and slick and so inviting that Steve completely forgot where he was going with the conversation. Suddenly the whole world existed solely in the curve of his mouth, and the keen spark in his eyes. Once again… just like the old days.

Steve was about to take advantage when the hinge of the door creaked slightly. They'd left it ajar and one of the palace attendants had poked his head in.

"Your dinner is here, Sergeant Barnes." he said shyly, clearly aware he'd caught them at an awkward moment. "And General Okoye had me bring up Captain Rogers's as well."

"Great." Bucky said with a grin. "Um… out on the balcony, I guess? It's gorgeous out there. Especially this time of day." But he wasn't talking just to the attendant anymore. He was looking up at Steve again before they had to forcibly disentangle themselves.

"Can we help with anything?" Steve offered, but the attendant waved him off with a smile.

Bucky caught Steve's hand once more, and pulled him out onto the balcony and out to soak in the warm glow of the early evening sun.

"Seems like you've settled in pretty well here." Steve opined as he watched their dinner being laid out on the table. "Didn't take you long."

Bucky shrugged. "They've taken very good care of me. But I've spent most of the time down in Shuri's lab. She's getting real tired of the answers to her questions being, "I don't know" or "I don't remember.""

"I imagine that's frustrating for more than just her."

"Truthfully, it's getting better." Bucky shrugged. "I've been awake long enough that I've learned that things will just come back when they come back. There are starting to be more holes in my Winter Soldier memories than in my memories from before, which for whatever reason feels like a good sign. It's just… this is the longest I've gone without the puzzle getting upended. It feels good, but it makes me antsy. I don't… I worry about losing all this progress."

 _Of losing you again…_

Steve didn't hear him say it out loud, but he didn't need to actually speak the words to have that thought coiling between them. Because Steve feared that too if he was being honest, and it made him tangle their fingers together all the more tightly.

The two of them wandered along the balcony rail. The light from the slowly sinking sun made them squint until it fell behind the veil of some wispy, purplish clouds, edging them in brilliant bronze. Steve watched the world around them gently shift, marking a bird in flight and the sweet smell of the breeze that wafted off the jungle-shrouded mountains. It felt as if the trees were folding in around them and the failing sun beckoned the world to its roost. The transition was a beautiful thing to behold... until he noticed Bucky wasn't looking at the sunset at all. He was staring, glassy eyed and serene, directly at Steve. 

He didn't look away. He didn't even blush. He'd never blushed that Steve had seen. Not over something like that anyway. He'd never been ashamed of the things he wanted. He had been, and apparently still was, brazen and desirous always. Steve envied him that sometimes, though he was getting better at it. Natasha had a lot to do with that...

"I missed you." Bucky said softly when Steve caught him staring. 

"I was only gone a few days, Buck." Steve smiled, a little color tinging his cheeks at the attention.

"I don't mean that. I mean… I missed you all along. At least… that's what I like to think it was." He did look away then, off to where the sun sent up a spray of sunbeams from behind the clouds that had begun to drape themselves along the mountains. "I didn't ever know what I was missing, but there was always something when they'd wake me up. Something gnawing and awful, and it would only get worse the longer I was awake. Partly because of what they were making me do. I was operating on instinct and hard-coded protocol… things that overwrote something. That overwrote me. But also it was partly because my thoughts were always half formed. And I know now it's because you weren't there to finish them. And you wouldn't have wanted to finish them... I somehow knew that whatever I was missing, it would be horrified by what I was. But I still wanted it desperately."

Steve swallowed hard pulling Bucky back to him as he listened to the attendant's retreating footsteps. Nearly face to face because of their height, they had to curl around each other, cheeks resting together or faces bent to hide in the crook of a neck.

"I'm sorry." Bucky whispered, brokenly.

Steve's arms instinctively tightened around him. "It wasn't your fault, Buck." he said. He had a feeling he would probably be saying that a lot in the coming months. Or whenever they could get Bucky out of cryo again.

He shoved that thought away. Hard. And pulled Bucky even closer.

"No, I mean… for not coming to you sooner." Bucky continued. "I… I should have. I should have just stayed with you on that lake. But…" He shook his head but it rapidly turned into a nuzzle against the hollow of Steve's throat. "God, I knew… I knew when I saved you from drowning without questioning the impulse that you were that missing piece. That ache I felt every time they woke me up… I knew it was you. And I thought if I stayed with you it would eat me alive. Because I didn't know if you'd…" he stopped and shook his head again, harder this time. "If… If I'd come to you then none of the shit in Berlin would have happened. Those people would still be alive. Your friends… they wouldn't have been captured and taken to that awful place. If I had just… stayed."

Steve's arms tightened around Bucky. "You didn't know. Not really, Buck. You can't punish yourself for something you only know from hindsight."

He could feel Bucky's face pull into a grimace against his skin. "But I still can see all of it. It plays perfectly… like a movie behind my eyes. Or actually more like a surveillance camera. No cuts. No sly angles. Just… the blunt truth of what happened." He looked up at Steve, his eyes gone sad and cold even in the brilliant light of the dying sun. "I may not be responsible… but it was still me. And it should still be me that evens the score."

Steve gave a small nod, drawing back to look Bucky in the eyes, sweeping his hair back off his forehead. "Then we'll even the score." he replied calmly. 

Bucky snorted and shook his head, a grin spreading lazy and liquid on his lips. "God, it was always that easy with you. You wanted something, you didn't let anything stop you. No matter what it was."

A smile touched the curve of Steve's lips. Tentatively he slid his hand up, cradling the back of Bucky's head, feeling how he shifted with the motion. How he let himself be held so freely. "It's still that easy." Steve said, rocking him in time with the sway of the breeze and cocking his head just so.

"You mean you're still that easy." Bucky whispered against his open mouth before he took the invitation, leaning in to press his mouth to Steve's in a sweet, unhurried kiss. Tasting and testing, remembering each quirk and curve, and recalling the taste when his tongue slipped over his. Bucky licked into his mouth, and inhaled, drawing his taste and scent down into the hollow places of his heart and letting the warmth settle into the cracks.

"For the record," Steve said, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to Bucky's. "I missed you too. Terribly. Every damn day. Sometimes… I would go to the Smithsonian… to that exhibit they have on me? And I would just walk through. They had interviews with you. And pictures. Did you see them when you went?"

Bucky nodded, still pressed skin to skin. "I saw. It was strange. Like listening to someone else talking back then. I… I didn't sound like I do now."

"Yes, you do. You're still yourself." Steve assured him, pushing his hair back and cupping his jaw. "It's like you said… it's coming back a little more each day. You might not be able to really see it but… I see it. Because we've spent so much time apart."

"Is that why you went to the museum?" Bucky asked. "Just to see me?"

"I stopped in Peggy's part of the exhibit… and the Howling Commandos too. But… I just… I wanted to hear your voice. See your smile. That's all I really wanted when I went there. God, Buck, it ate me alive too. Just like it was doing to you. And just when I thought I might be finding a place to settle… a way to let go of the pain of everything that happened, there you were again. Standing there in the street. Just a bolt out of the blue."

Bucky laughed a little then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, aren't we a romance for the ages, Rogers."

His laughter infected Steve making him throw his head back. Bucky followed the motion with his eyes, feeling something hot and clutching begin to pool low in his core at the sight of Steve's convulsing throat. It almost seemed like it should be obscene, even though he was just laughing. But the sound… the motion… it made Bucky's skin prickle and his knees go weak. When Steve looked at him again, he saw the hunger coiled behind his eyes. It was sharper somehow, with the new angles of his face and the handsome beard that was growing in. Sharper… and better…

And familiar.

Bucky licked his lips, leaning in for another kiss though he kept it brief. "I'm starving and the food's getting cold." he said, the words sticking in his teeth a little. He clearly wasn't just hungry for dinner, but that needed to happen first.

Steve nodded pulling them over to the table at the far end of the balcony rail. The sun was truly setting now; the fan of sunbeams slowly shifting from gold, to amber, to a rich rose. The whole palace was bathed in the soft light, shadows stretching out, thin and filmy across the ground as they melted together and found new places to pool and darken.

"Tell me about Natasha." Bucky said, as he pulled the lids off the dishes. His voice was soft and careful, but there was a pointed bravery to his tone that knocked smartly against Steve's heart. Bucky clearly didn't know if he was treading dangerous ground between them, as if any such thing had ever existed. But the question begged to be asked anyway. He wanted to know. It was still something of a mystery to him how the honorable and righteous "star spangled man with a plan" had fallen in with someone who's calling card was cold, precise lethality.

Steve bought himself a moment to think as he took the opportunity to lean over the dishes and inhale the steam wafting up. Dinner was some sort of stew, served over rice with round little flat breads and a generous pile of fruit drizzled with some kind of dark syrup. The warm, almost stinging smell of the spice was intoxicating. He desperately wanted to be distracted by the food, for reasons that had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't had a hot meal since breakfast at Natasha's. He hadn't really anticipated having to answer that question so quickly, or so directly. But… here they were. Might as well since he was asking.

"Well… I met her when I first came on board with SHIELD." he began haltingly. "When Loki took the Cube and-"

"No, I don't mean how you met, or how you started fooling around with her." Bucky cut him off with a smirk, though the light expression quickly faded. "I mean… what's she like now?" he mouthed around on the question a little, as if the words didn't quite satisfy his intention. "I mean… you've worked with her for awhile, yeah? Gotten to know her?"

Steve let out a long, cheek-puffing sigh, staring off towards the jagged horizon. He was even less prepared to answer this question. What was Natasha Romanoff like? Did that question even have an answer that didn't resemble a sprawling Wikipedia article? And it didn't escape his notice that Bucky had specifically said, "What's she like now?"

 _Now…_ as if he might have known her before?

Steve was silent for a long time, collecting his words and arranging them in his head like little soldiers. "She's changed in the time I've known her." he finally settled on saying as he set to serving them both. That certainly shortened the answer somewhat. "Or maybe… She's become more herself than she was when we first met. She was very… cold initially. Self-contained." he lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug. "I wrote it off as her being a spy. One with a shady past to boot, and I did my best not to judge her for it. She made no secret of the broader strokes of her origins to me or to anyone. But she always seemed to play everything close to the vest. Reactions were tamped down. Answers and responses were carefully measured." Steve paused to give a dry laugh and rub one hand down his neck. "She didn't like me at first. She never said so, but I could tell."

Bucky laughed a little to himself at that but said nothing.

"But… I'd get these glimpses." Steve went on, his grin still lingering. "All through the mission with the Cube and the Chitauri, and then working together on a Strike team out of the Triskelion. I'd… I don't know. I'd see her think, y'know? See her process. Catch a look between her and Clint or Coulson. I mean… later I'd learn that they were more than just partners, but… It was even more than that. It was something… soft and sort of… I don't know. Blank? I don't think there's really a word for it."

"A crack?"

Steve's face twisted as he shook his head. "That makes it sound like a fault."

"Some might see it that way." Bucky shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant about the subject. "Especially where she came from."

Steve gave a considering incline of his head. "She might even see it that way. Or did. But in a way, you're right, I guess. It was a vulnerability. An openness. And after HYDRA revealed itself, I finally saw more than a glimpse of it. I still can't name it but… after everything fell apart? When the Triskelion fell and everything went to hell? She had to blow all her covers to root it out. Then she had no one to be but herself. At least that's what she told me." Steve sighed, picking at the food on his plate. He glanced up at Bucky, hoping to prompt another question, but he just stared steadily at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Natasha… she balances a lot of things in that head of hers." Steve went on after a moment. "She's got this capacity for… I don't know. Intelligent compassion? She's a big picture thinker, or maybe "long game thinker" is a more accurate way to say it, but that… I don't mean she writes off individuals as collateral. She has an ability to think critically and tactically without losing sight of… people, honestly. And vice versa. And... " Steve stopped short when he realized Bucky hadn't taken a bite of his food and was instead listening with rapt, focused attention. "Why are you asking, out of curiosity?"

The expression melted from Bucky's face as he gave an awkward, one shouldered shrug. "I was just curious is all. I'm… not unfamiliar with her previous work, shall we say. Both for the KGB and for SHIELD."

Steve fixed him with a hard but not unkind stare. He knew that shrug. And that tone of voice. Whether Bucky knew it or not, it was one of his tells. An old one. The one that said, "You don't want to know how I got the money for this, Steve. Just take the medicine."

"You also know something about her past at the Red Room that she doesn't." Steve pressed gently.

Bucky met his eyes and gave a noncommittal incline of his head. He knew he'd been caught.

"What is it? If I can ask."

Bucky's mouth worked for a moment before he finally shook his head. "That will be her story to tell. Not mine."

Steve wanted to press further. He felt the impulse to push and possibly even plead for the information, and he knew it was because he wanted to go back to Natasha triumphant with the truth in hand. But he remembered what she'd said. About the truth not always meaning freedom. Not always being all things to all people all the time.

"She knows you know." he settled on saying.

"I know."

"She thinks it's something awful. It scares her."

"Well, do you blame her? I certainly don't. It is the Red Room after all."

"Tell me this, Bucky." Steve said sitting forward and resting his elbows on the table. "If we discover a way to undo this... " He waved his fork towards Bucky. "This… I don't know… brainwashing for you, and then we discover that it might work on her… Is it bad news? Worse than the things she already knows about?"

Bucky was silent for a moment, taking his turn to stare out at the distant snow-capped mountains while worrying at his lip. "I only know what I was there for." he said finally. "I only know what I witnessed. But if you're asking if the monster under her bed is me?" He cut his eyes to Steve. "The answer is no. There's… there's not any bad news in regards to me. But I don't know what else they might've hid from her. I never saw her again until she was between me and my mark a few years back.”

Steve gave an understanding nod. “She showed me the scar. When she was trying to warn me about chasing you.”

Bucky blinked twice and then gave a bewildered smile. "And you still came after me."

Steve mirrored the expression. "You act like that is in some way surprising."

Bucky laughed and shook his head as the warmth of the smile melted slowly from his face. “I want to tell her I’m sorry.” he said finally. "For that… and the one after that. And the attempt after that." His face pulled in a humorlessly wry grimace of a grin.

“I’m sure she understands." Steve replied. "If anyone understands it’s her.”

“I should still apologize.”

Steve gave a considering nod before returning to his dinner. They ate the rest of the meal in thoughtful, amiable silence, cleaning the dishes down to the last grain of rice. The sun was nearly set when they finished, just a single golden stripe along the mountain range was all that remained of the day's sunlight as it rapidly faded into the royal purple of twilight. 

When it was clear that they were just picking at their empty plates, Bucky stood without a word, tossing his napkin on the table. He took Steve's hand in his and drug him back inside. The fading daylight had pooled across the bed and Bucky stretched out into it, pulling Steve with him. They fell together in an awkward heap on top of the luxurious woven bedspread. Bucky tried to pull Steve on top of him, but felt him stiffen up in response. 

"What is it?" Bucky asked, his eyes searching Steve's face.

Steve stared down at him, brow knit as the clockwork of his mind working desperately for an answer. But he came up with only a needy, anxious static that filled his head like cotton wool. He swallowed as he raised his hand, tracing the line of Bucky's face with one knuckle and watching with rapt fascination as he leaned into the caress. He followed Steve's hand as if his touch held the secrets of the universe.

Maybe for him it did.

"I worry about… about too much too fast." Steve finally settled on saying. It was the truth. Or as much of the truth as he could get words around.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. "For me or you?"

"For you." Steve answered. It was only half a lie.

"Let me worry about that." Bucky replied, his lips curling into a smile.

"You know it's not that easy for me."

The confused frown returned. "Then what are you worried about?"

Steve shook his head, a million concerns playing out behind his hooded eyes. But he hadn't moved away, Bucky noted. "I lost you once. Twice. And I'm about to have to say goodbye again. And I don't care if it's just for awhile… Buck, it just... I'm scared of losing you again. Of losing this again." He hooked his hand around the back of Bucky's neck and squeezed, as if there were any doubt about what he meant.

Bucky levered himself up on his arm and leaned in, angling his face and licking his lips. "You asked for this." Bucky reminded him. "And I said yes because I want to give it to you. Because I'm certain this isn't the end of the line for us. Shuri's gonna-"

Steve just hung his head. "But what if she can't?"

Bucky reached out and lifted his chin, looking him in the eye. "If it turns out Shuri can't fix it, then… then we figure it out from there. Like… like I know we always did. We just… figured it out. But I'm confident she can fix me. Okay? Trust me on this. This is my choice. I'm choosing the cryo chamber in the morning, and I'm choosing you right now." 

Steve just stared, caught once again in awe of how beautiful Bucky was. In this place, with the angle of the light so low that it chased every shadow from his face. And that stubborn, cocksure glint in his eye. The one that said it was all going to be alright even if he didn't have the how quite worked out yet. 

Spend those last two dollars on hotdogs and carnival games. 

Zipline onto the moving train full of HYDRA goons. 

Kiss me… here and now in a place neither of us knew existed a week ago.

Because that was who Bucky was. Full stop. And HYDRA hadn't taken that away from him.

And somehow Bucky could put it all into so many words. "So what are you waiting for?" He asked, the grin curling further to reveal a few teeth.

Steve blinked once. What _was_ he waiting for? He'd never hesitated with Bucky before. Not even when they were both just dumb kids fumbling around in the dark, the air humid and heavy between them. He was never anxious about anything like this before. Bucky had always been a given until he suddenly and painfully wasn't. 

And that thought had Steve's anxiety at the situation roiling again and it took shape in a thousand senseless ways before melting away into static again. Because Bucky was still smiling at him, with his head angled just so and his bottom lip between his teeth.

Steve shook his head. He was being stupid. He had asked for this, and this might be the last chance. Maybe ever. He hadn't gotten a "last chance" before, and damned if he would miss it now.

He leaned in, capturing Bucky's upturned lips with his own, feeling the unfamiliar rasp of his beard mixing with the hauntingly, achingly familiar smell of his skin. He still smelled the same. A century later and so much more between them… and he still smelled the same. Still tasted the same. Bucky rolled them as his tongue slid over Steve's, pulling him across his chest so that the bulk of his weight pressed down on top of him. Steve instinctively stiffened again as their bodies pressed in on each other, those same worries raising their heads like pit vipers. It was too much… too soon...

But for who?

So Steve gave in again. Bit by bit. Inch by inch. He let himself be pulled mostly by Bucky's ridiculously hot mouth, fitting the length of his heavy frame against Bucky's. His hands wandered as he slipped his own tongue past Bucky's teeth, practically preening at the growl that elicited. He drew his hands up his waist, fingers plumbing every dip and divot from hips to collarbones. God, he'd wrecked Steve before… but now-

His hand fell across metal. Warm to the touch but sharp at the edges. He froze pulling back to gauge Bucky's reaction, worried that it might be uncomfortable or that he'd overstepped. That he'd found a thought… a touch… a memory best left alone.

Bucky met his hollowed eyes, fearless as always. "You haven't seen it, have you? Not really."

Steve shook his head. "Just the pictures." The words came out strangled and stiff.

Bucky sat up a little, reaching over his head to pull the thin white shirt off in one smooth motion. Steve drew back onto his knees and gave him room to work, but didn't resettle. He stayed half sitting up, perched on the point of his elbow. From the waist up he wore nothing but that infuriating, incandescent smirk and his collection scars. Some old from the days in Brooklyn of sticking up for Steve in a fight. And some new.

When the shirt came free Steve just stared, eyes grazing over every contour of bone and muscle. He looked so different. And yet that posture… that grin… Steve had seen it all a thousand times. And a million more in his memories. And it was so good to see it again… so wonderfully familiar...

But then his gaze fell on the twisted braid of scar tissue that melted Bucky's flesh to the shiny metal socket of his artificial shoulder. It looked like candle wax. Or worse yet, like a haphazardly welded joint. The damaged components from the old arm had been removed, leaving behind an empty socket capped with a soft black cotton sleeve. As clean and comfortable as they could make it…

But...

"Can I…" Steve lifted his hand, hovering over where skin melded to metal, unable to bring his palm down to touch it. 

"It doesn't hurt." he said, covering his hand with his own and pressing down. And somehow Steve knew he wasn't talking about anything to do with that shoulder.

Bucky's eyes were brighter now, with the limb gone and Steve's hands on him. As if the arm had been a burden. He'd treated it like a weapon before, Steve remembered. Back when they were in the Quinjet. But now, it was as if he were more whole now that he was bereft of it. Or perhaps bereft wasn't the right word.

Perhaps the right word was _freed._

The dam inside Steve broke at that. All his caution. All his deference. The moment swept it all up in its hungry maw. His hands developed a mind of their own, tracing every contour, every muscle, every scar and imperfection, though truthfully there were none. Everything about Bucky's body was perfect. Because he was here. He was real, and even if Steve had to say goodbye again, he at least got this small luxury. He'd learn and relearn every sensitive place, catalogue every reaction, and relish every shared touch. He'd commit it all to memory, and jealousy hoard it like a miser. Hoard it for the days coming where he wouldn't have Bucky in such easy reach.

Steve followed his hands with his mouth, kissing and licking every bit of skin he could find before turning his attention to the twisted line of scarring that connected Bucky to his artificial shoulder. He kissed it like it was a holy relic. And it was, in a way. A relic of a harsh time. But a time that would be the foundation moving forward, despite its horrificness. Despite it being an utter catastrophe.

Despite it representing Steve's greatest failure.

"I'm sorry." he breathed over the scar, the apology fogging on the surface of the metal.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." Bucky replied, hooking a finger under his chin and drawing his face up to his. 

"I… I should have gone back for you."

"You had no reason to suspect I'd survived. You had a mission." Bucky said, fingers sliding around to cup the back of his head. "A world to save from HYDRA."

"For all the good it did." Steve shook his head, sitting up into a sort of half straddle over one of Bucky's thighs. "No, I don't… I don't trade lives anymore. That's not who I am. It's not who I ever was. It's what they tried to make me. I… it was all about principles. That's what I kept telling myself. A hero had to be someone of principle. The greater good. The big picture. But… what good are principles without people? Principles that disregard people get us here. With bullshit like the Accords. And even HYDRA if we aren't careful." He shook his head again, sending his hair fanning out over his face. "No more." 

Steve paused licking his lips as he gathered his thoughts behind gleaming blue eyes. "My principle is people. Full stop, and I'm done compromising on that. I should have gone back for you, and this," he gripped Bucky's metal shoulder joint, fingers dipping into the hollow of the socket as he gave it a gentle shake. "This is on me. And it won't happen again. To you or anyone."

Bucky's eyes sparkled a little at the admission, and he sank his hand into Steve's hair, pulling his forehead flush with his own. He smiled, all teeth and crow's feet by his eyes, and in a voice steeped in old laughter he said, "Boy, Rogers… you sure you shouldn't have saved that for some sort of showy speech? Because I'm pretty sure I heard the National Anthem playing underneath all that."

Steve playfully punched him in the ribs before pulling him in for a kiss that was more teeth than anything else, and Bucky let himself be eaten up with relish. 

"Why could you always do that?" Steve asked, breaking the kiss suddenly.

"Do what?" Bucky inquired innocently as he tried to recapture Steve's mouth.

"Not let me take myself too seriously." he replied, dodging Bucky's lips with a half smirk.

"You always gave me plenty of opportunities to practice." Bucky replied, mirroring his grin. Steve let him win with that one, slotting their mouths together as he lost himself to the taste and smell of Bucky, still at once familiar and strange. Steve lowered himself onto his elbows, bracketing his shoulders so that he could card his fingers through Bucky's hair over and over again. This was definitely new, but it was wonderful. Almost as wonderful as the feeling of Bucky's fingers tracing up his back, dipping into the divot of his spine and splaying out over his ribs to feel each shuddering breath.

"Get this off." Bucky finally said, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "I want to see you."

Steve rocked back on his knees and obliged him, peeling off the clingy light blue material to bare his chest for Bucky's inspection. Bucky licked his lips as he watched, a hungry swipe of tongue followed by the rake of his teeth as he sat up between Steve's thighs. He wrapped his arm around the back of his legs to hold him in place as his tongue began to rove over the contours of his abs. Steve's breath hitched and his skin shuddered like that of a fly-stung horse at every caress. Bucky smiled against his stomach, mouthing over his flesh as if he could devour every sigh and shudder. 

His favorite was the one Steve gave when he felt his teeth graze just above the waistband of his jeans.

"Do you remember the first time I sucked you off?" Bucky asked, his voice nearly a purr as his lips and teeth teased and tugged at the button of his fly.

"Uh huh..." was all Steve could muster as his breath was stolen by Bucky's lips hovering over his zipper. Every breath and word was a soft puff of warmth against the aching stiffness that was rapidly growing under the zipper. 

"You had done me a couple of times, but I was a chicken shit about it." Bucky went on.

"You were just nervous." Steve placated, his voice thick with concentration as he tried to remember to breathe, stay upright, and not come just from the thought of Bucky's mouth on the swelling length of his erection.

"I was an arrogant jerk. You can say it." Bucky smirked up at him. "Thought sucking cock made me less of a man… at least until I tried it. God, the sounds you made…" he trailed off as he wrapped his lips around the bulge in Steve's pants making him groan aloud as he breathed hot, humid air on his thickening cock. "Yeah, kinda like that."

"Jesus, Buck…" Steve rocked against his mouth once before he got hold of himself again.

"I was hopeless after that. I loved giving it up for you more than anything." He kissed the head of Steve's cock through the fabric, feeling it jump and strain against his lips as Steve sank his hands into Bucky's hair. "Kind of like I'm about to do now."

He worked Steve's fly open expertly with his one hand and Steve eagerly helped him, though he kept mumbling half-hearted variations of, "You don't have to, Buck…"

But it was all silenced when Bucky pulled his cock free and without warning or preamble, sucked it deep into his mouth. 

"God, fuck!" Steve shouted, his voice ringing off the stone walls. For a few brief seconds that encompassed a small, blissful eternity, nothing existed but the hot sweet suction that enveloped him. The texture of the roof of Bucky's mouth. The curl of his tongue. The pressure. The wet and the warm and… He dug his fingers into Bucky's shoulders to keep from coming right then and there as Bucky lazily sucked him a few times before pulling off. 

"You taste exactly like I remember." he said, giving him a long, languorous lick from root to tip. "And I remember. Oh, I remember." He paused again to swipe the tip of his tongue through the bead of precome that had begun to dribble down the flared head of his cock. "I remember that first night… back in the tent after the serum. Jesus, I couldn't wait to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. We were almost caught. Do you remember? By Morita?"

Steve sucked in enough air to grunt. "Uh huh."

"God, you were a feast for the eyes." Bucky said, words punctuating a row of wet, open-mouthed kisses he was laying along the underside of Steve's cock. "I loved you before. I had always loved you. But Jesus… you-"

"Say it again." Steve's sex-roughened voice was accompanied by a hard squeeze of his shoulders.

Bucky stopped talking, his wicked smirk softening into a genuine smile that made his eyes sparkle even in the last dregs of daylight. "I always loved you, Steve. I still do."

"I love you too."

Bucky's smile grew teeth for a brief flash before he sucked Steve back into his mouth. Each pull let him sink deeper and deeper… farther and farther past Bucky's already stretched lips until Steve felt the slickness of the back of his throat brush over the head of his cock. He went to withdraw, not wanting to choke him. Not wanting to press too far this first time. But Bucky's arm tightened around the back of Steve's thighs, holding him in place deep inside the slick clutch of the back of his throat.

And he swallowed. Steve's vision nearly went white from the obscenely slick, rhythmically convulsing pressure. "Fuck!" He shouted, the word biting off into a groan that seemed to go on forever as Bucky kept sucking and swallowing. Over and over, his mouth becoming just an undulating conduit of sensation for Steve's thick, throbbing cock.

Steve was fine until he looked down. He'd convinced himself that he had a handle on it because he wanted to see this, but that handle was gone the instant he actually saw what was being done to him. Bucky was a mess. Eyes closed, a glistening line of spit escaping his thin, stretched lips. Steve couldn't help himself, he slid one hand over, thumb grazing over Bucky's adam's apple. He could feel it bob and strain with each contraction of Bucky's throat. He could feel himself there, buried deep inside. And impossibly Bucky kept trying to take more. Greedy as always…

As if reading his thoughts, Bucky's hand worked its way into the back of Steve's pants, and one finger found the puckered ring of muscle at Steve's entrance.

Greedy indeed.

Bucky pulled off, stealing a breath before setting up a slow pace, sucking Steve to the root and swallowing as he massaged the stiff muscle around his ass. Steve buried his hands in Bucky's hair as he fought for all he was worth not to thrust. Not to take what he wanted. But his body was not cooperating. He wanted this too bad. It had been too long. 

He felt the coils of his arousal begin to tighten, sinking lower and lower as everything twisted into a single thread that was nothing but want want _want_ , and that was pulled ever tighter by the liquid suction of Bucky's mouth. And the sounds he made… the hungry feral groans each time Steve would slide across his tongue.

"Stop… stop…" Steve could barely get enough air for the words to be more than a whisper, but Bucky heard him, pulling off with an obscene pop. Spit trailed from the leaking head of Steve's cock to his swollen lips. He looked up at Steve, his expression at once hooded and playful. "I don't want to come yet." he explained breathlessly.

"Well, what do you want?" Bucky taunted, his clever fingers still teasing over Steve's hole.

The unending caress made it hard to think. "I...I… is there anything we can use?"

"Check the bedside table." Bucky replied with a toothy smile. "Wakandan hospitality has us covered."

Steve stood on shaky legs, holding his pants up with one hand as he rummaged around in the bedside table with the other. Sure enough he produced a not terribly discreetly sized bottle of lube. "You're kidding."

Bucky's cocky grin was back in full force, made all the more debauched and delightful by how swollen his lips were. "I may have asked for it. I'm an optimist."

Steve flushed to the roots of his hair. "There is some poor attendant I'm not going to be able to look in the eye and I'm not going to know who it is."

"Nope." Bucky replied, tugging Steve back over to him. 

"You want to do the honors?" He held the bottle out to him.

Bucky considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "You do it. I want to watch." Bucky stripped out of his pants, his stiff cock bouncing up against his stomach with a wet smack. 

Steve's mouth watered at the sight. He was tempted for a moment to ignore the request and instead repay the excellent blowjob he'd just gotten, but he restrained himself. He decided he would probably come if Bucky let him suck his cock. He would come like a horny teenager rutting into the sheets. Not that it was going to be any less difficult to keep himself under control while he fingered himself open, but still. The fact that this was what Bucky asked for would help him keep a lid on it.

He straddled Bucky's hips as he poured a generous helping of lube onto his fingers. The ring of muscle had already started to give under Bucky's earlier ministrations, so this wasn't going to take long. Thank goodness, because the look Bucky was giving him as he watched threatened to be his undoing. Especially when he started stroking his own cock.

Steve was a little faster with his own prep than he might've been otherwise, but he was so pent up and had been taken so expertly to the edge once already. He knew he wasn't going to last if he drew this out. But the sight of Bucky stretched out under him, lazily stroking his cock and staring up at him like Steve was his whole world… he could already feel himself coming unraveled in a way that had nothing to do with sex. 

He went for two fingers quicker than he should have, his face pulling in a wince that Bucky read without error. 

"Slow down, Rogers." he coaxed.

"I want to come with you." he said, his voice unhinged with want. "Like we used to."

"We will. We will." he assured him, petting his hand up his thigh. "I've got you."

"I've missed this." Steve panted as he drove himself down on his two fingers. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too, punk." Bucky replied, his smile continuing to blossom in the fading light.

Hastily, Steve pulled his fingers out of his ass. "I'm good… please, I want you."

"Okay okay." he soothed, lining himself up as Steve practically presented himself over top of him. Back arched. Flushed cock jutting out proudly, leaking all over Bucky's chest.

He pushed just the head in at first, watching Steve's face for the first sign of discomfort. His face scrunched at first, but he pushed back and down, sinking onto Bucky's cock in a single, smooth motion.

It felt to Bucky like Steve's body had a gravity all its own. It pulled him in and in until nothing existed except that single point of contact. He felt every thought, motion, and feeling vanish into the sensation of Steve's body convulsing and adjusting around him. "Be careful." he ground out. "Don't hurt yourself. Don't let me hurt you."

"I don't care if it hurts." Steve replied through gritted teeth, rocking himself over Bucky with harsh rolling thrusts. "I just want you."

Bucky reached up, first cupping Steve's face and then gripping the back of his neck when that didn't get his attention. "Steve." he said firmly, and waited for Steve's eyes to open. It took a second for him to be able to focus on Bucky's face, but once he did, Bucky went on. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere when I go under. I'm going to be right here. Don't be so desperate for this that you don't enjoy it."

It took Steve a couple of tries to get a full breath. He felt so tight. So full. So much. But once he got that breath, he stilled and let it out in a single, long, calm stream of air. "Okay." 

Bucky started thrusting then, with his hand set over the arch of Steve's hip bone. Just short, shallow little rolls of his hips that made Steve's cock bounce invitingly as he caught the crest of each thrust. Bucky slid his hand up to his waist, thumb digging into the hollow of his hip and guiding him for a moment before closing around the length of his cock. 

"How are you so put together?" Steve asked through gritted teeth as he fought with himself over whether or not he was going to grind down onto Bucky's cock or thrust into his loose fist. Neither were giving enough sensation to get anywhere, and so he just drifted between the two. Chasing one and then the other as his fancy took him.

"I'm not." Bucky replied. "I'm not. I never am for you. God, fuck Steve. Do you know how good you look? Riding my cock like your life depends on it?" he asked as his hand found the thick length of Steve's cock and began to stroke him in time with every thrust.

"Could say the same about you?" The words came out strangled as Steve chased pleasure on both fronts.

"Me? A twice broken soldier with a shit load of brainwashing and a body count-"

Steve threw himself forward, silencing Bucky's list of perceived shortcomings with an ardent, hungry kiss. "You look like everything I've ever wanted. I would burn the world down for you. I did burn my world down for you. And I would do it again and again and again..."

"Christ, Steve." Bucky arched up off the bed, the rhythm of his hips growing more and more insistent.

"I've got you, Buck."

Bucky smiled up at him, breath hissing between his teeth. "You always did." he ground out. "You always do."

His grip on Steve's cock tightened, lighting the final fuse on his arousal. Steve wanted to dive for the match, but he knew there was no coming back from this one. Everything pulled tighter… burned hotter… His skin felt tight all over as the pressure and the pleasure built and built. "Bucky… Bucky… I'm going to-" Something akin to panic made his voice come unstrung.

"Come for me, Steve." Bucky's voice was little more than an avaricious growl.

Bucky had barely finished the statement before Steve arched his back, his thick cock spitting ropes of white come all over Bucky's chest. His body clamped down around Bucky's length like a vise, sending him over the edge a moment later. Bucky rode out his orgasm in a quick ripple of thrusts that ended on an apex as he held himself inside Steve until the last pulse of come had emptied into Steve's body.

They collapsed onto their sides, pressed together from knees to noses, heedless of the mess they'd made. They traded lazy kisses until the last of the daylight was long gone and their whole room was a single cloistered shadow.

"Come on." Bucky said finally as Steve's eyes started to droop closed. "Shower. Or we'll regret it."

They both headed for the bathroom on legs that didn't quite seem ready to cooperate. As they stood under the spray, Steve found himself tracing the ridge of scar tissue that held Bucky's artificial shoulder in place.

"I wish it wasn't so ugly." Bucky said softly.

Steve responded by leaning down and tracing it with his tongue, ending with a long kiss at the top of his shoulder, half on skin and half on the metal. "It's you." he whispered against skin and prosthetic alike. "And I love all of you."

Bucky leaned into the caress, too numb from pleasure to make his case further.

Back in bed, naked and pooled together in a tangle of caressing limbs and sleepy kisses, they eventually drifted off. But Steve fought to stay awake long enough to hear Bucky's breathing even out. He thought back to all the times Bucky held him while he fought through some illness or another. Or sometimes for no reason at all. Bucky had known his body well enough to catch an infection before it even set in. Even though he was fighting sleep, Steve traced the contours of Bucky's chest, memorizing every line as if he could do the same in a single night that Bucky had done over the course of years.

A futile pursuit, especially since Steve was asleep within minutes. 

But not an unworthy one.

***

In all the years they spent together, there had never been a morning where Steve hadn't been the first one awake. And on instinct, he seemed to think that this one would be no different. It was always how it had been with the two of them. And more recently it was how it had been with Natasha, who dearly loved to sleep in almost as much as she loved tempting Steve to do the same.

He awoke, stretching his sore muscles and giving a great, cavernous yawn as he groped in the bedclothes for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be found. Steve sat up all at once, shaking his limbs loose from the sheets as he blearily searched the room for him.

"About time." Bucky's teasing drawl filtered in from the balcony. "I was worried I wouldn't be the only one going to sleep forever." He sauntered into the room, wearing only his underwear and a pleased smirk. "Did I wear you out?"

Steve snorted, flopping back in the bed to drink in the sight of Bucky's muscled body. "Blame Natasha. She always talks me into sleeping in. Or at the very least… staying in bed."

"Don't drag her into this." Bucky chastised, coming to stand by the bed and putting his hand on his hip. "You and I both know that you've always had a penchant for morning sex."

Steve reached out and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him astride his body. "Well, if that's your argument, don't you dare put all the blame on me. I certainly never heard you complain about all those morning blowjobs."

Bucky bit his lip, palming his cock through his underwear, feeling it pulse as it started to fill out. Clearly just a little dirty talk and close proximity to Steve was all the convincing his body needed. It was all the convincing he ever needed for anything. Even without the benefit of his morning coffee. "It's not my fault you've got a mouth that looks like it was made to suck cock." He bent forward to briefly pull Steve's bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling at it greedily before letting it slip from his mouth.

"Care for a demonstration?" Steve practically purred the words against Bucky's open mouth.

"Oh by all means, Rogers."

"Grab the headboard." Steve said, his hands going to the waistband of Bucky's underwear. "I've got you."

Bucky did as he was bade, gripping the headboard with his one hand as he stared down at Steve. "God, do you ever…" The words fell off into a groan as he felt Steve's fingers close around the half hard shaft of his cock, pulling it free of his clothes. 

He stroked him a few times, generously licking his lips to wet his mouth before he closed his lips around the head of his cock. Bucky hissed between his teeth, the knuckles of his hand going white against the ornately carved wood as he fought not to thrust. Steve always did like to be a tease. He knew just how to tease to make it better. To make it last. To spin out a tapestry of pleasure to wrap Bucky in until he was weak and shivering and just wanted more.

"Fuck, Steve." He ground out, his nails biting into the carved headboard. He was fully hard now, stretching Steve's beautiful lips more and more as he pulled him deeper. Bucky wanted to touch his face. To caress the point where his mouth sealed around him with the most perfect pressure and suction. He could feel him curling his tongue along the underside, coaxing drop after drop of precome and swallowing them so beautifully.

But he wouldn't be able to hold himself upright otherwise. If only… but the thought occurred to him that he wasn't even sure he would want to touch Steve with his metal arm. Not even a new one, which he wasn't even sure he wanted. That was a weapon of war. Not meant for touching someone like Steve. Steve, who deserved every gentle and kind thing he could find in this world. Who brought out the gentleness and kindness in him. Even now.

Even after everything.

Steve was done teasing now. He brought both hands to curl around his balls, one cupping, the other rubbing where the root of his cock disappeared into the rest of his body. Bucky groaned aloud, slack jawed and wanting, and he couldn't keep himself from thrusting. And Steve encouraged it. He beckoned with every deep, swallowing suck. With his reddened, spit-slick lips and his hooded eyes, staring up at Bucky as he started to come unwound. 

He wanted to touch him. And he would. He decided. He wanted to take him apart just the same… but with just his hand. Just the one he had left.

He came with that thought, shooting down Steve's throat. And Steve sucked him greedily until Bucky was a soft, oversensitive, whining mess. When he finally let his cock slide out of his mouth, he grinned, all swollen lips and even teeth. Like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Apparently, Bucky was the canary. 

It certainly wasn't the first time.

"Your turn." Bucky said, his voice roughened and demanding.

"How do you want me?" Steve asked, giving a luxurious little stretch underneath him.

"Just like this." Bucky said, arranging himself on his left side and resting his head alongside Steve's on the pillow. He slipped his hand under the sheet finding a rock hard bulge waiting for him, trapped in Steve's boxers. "Want to know something I remember?"

"What's that?" Steve said, trying and failing to hide the hitch in his voice as Bucky traced the outline of his erection through the thin cotton.

"I remember the first time you ever got with Peggy."

A surprised frown worked its way across Steve's face. "That right?" he said, clearly eager and apprehensive to find out where this was going.

"You thought I'd be jealous, but I wasn't." Bucky went on. "And to prove it to you, I had you just like this in our tent that next night. And made you tell me all about it." He was stroking him with his knuckles now, the fabric growing damp and translucent, and his breathing turning shallow.

"Yeah… I remember…" he managed to prise the words from behind his teeth as his voice wound itself into a breathy stammer.

"You got into it too, as I recall." Bucky said, the pressure of his fingers increasing, but still not providing enough friction to get anywhere.

"You did too." Steve replied in little more than a whisper, his face pressed into the pillow.

"I did." He paused, cupping the bulk of Steve's cock in his palm and pressing down, making him bow up off the bed. And when that spasm faded, he pressed his lips to Steve's ear. "Tell me about Natasha." Bucky said, the barest hint of a command in his voice.

Steve's face snapped to his, eyes going wide as he fought between his shock and the delicious pressure of Bucky's hand on his cock. "I… I… I don't know where to start, Buck."

"We'll do it just like before… How did it start?" Bucky prompted, nosing along his jawline.

"She kissed me. On an escalator." He closed his eyes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and grinding up, only to have Bucky pull away when he stopped talking. "It was a cover. From the HYDRA agents tailing us. But she teased me about it. Said it must've been my first kiss since 1945."

"Was it?"

Steve nodded, unable to find his voice. His eyes were cinched shut, corners creasing as he fought to lie still. Bucky hadn't told him to, but he wanted this to last. It would be the last time…

For awhile, he scolded himself. Only for a little while. Already he was letting the future distract him from the present. He shook his head and let a shallow thrust ripple through his frame.

"Peggy was your last kiss before her, I'm assuming." Bucky's mouth curled into a possessive, prideful smile. He leaned over and claimed Steve's mouth with his for a moment, nibbling his bottom lip again and making him gasp as he rocked the heel of his hand against the base of his cock. "Go on…"

"She kissed me again in Sam's house. Said she wanted to be friends."

"Very friendly of her." Bucky taunted. 

Steve laughed at how strange it sounded to say out loud. "She is very friendly. She took me to some Congressman's getaway after the fallout with the Triskelion. And she… we…"

"How did you do it?" Bucky snuck his hand down past the waistband, pulling Steve's cock free and letting it brush lightly against the sheets. It was already a sticky, throbbing mess and he was content to exacerbate the issue, letting the precome slick up his palm as he dragged it against the oversensitive length of Steve's shaft.

"Bucky… please… it's hard to think when you do that."

Bucky immediately lessened the pressure. Let the elastic band start to creep back up. "If I need to stop."

"Please don't stop." Steve begged, his voice drawing up high and thin like a taut string.

"Then tell me." Bucky encouraged, the words and his beard tickling Steve's skin. "What was she like?"

"She made such a show of herself. God, you would have thought I was a mark, the way she worked." Once he got the words started, he couldn't seem to stop, and Bucky seemed keen on rewarding him for the whole story. He fisted his cock and moved in steady, even strokes, keeping the pressure just shy of too much. "And she… she brought out a side of me I just never really let out when I wasn't with you."

"That so?" Bucky smirked.

"She said she wanted to see me strut. And God, for her I did. I stripped my shirt off for her like she was paying me to do it."

"I want a demonstration sometime."

"Anytime, Buck." the name turned into a groan at the end. "Please… a little tighter… a little…"

"I know the key to your lock, Steve." Bucky said, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I'm not done with you yet. What happened next? Did you eat her out?"

Steve nodded, the motion a little jerky and frantic. "She loved it. Laid there and moaned with her legs splayed out. Heels hooked behind my back."

"Did you make her beg?"

Steve shook his head as he chased the pressure of Bucky's hand with his hips. "I didn't want to. I wanted to give her everything she wanted. Because she was doing that for me. The world was awful, Buck… for both of us. No, I didn't make her beg. I let her ride my face, and the only thing she begged for was my cock. And she only had to ask once."

Bucky's hand tightened around his shaft, sliding through the steady dribble of precome he was milking out of him with each stroke. "How often?" he asked. "How often do you guys… get friendly?"

"Not… it wasn't often at first." he replied. "But after awhile it was all the time. God, she stayed in my apartment in the Avengers compound so much, half her clothes were in my room. And she kept having to bring back the shirts she'd steal. And fuck, I'd wake up with my cock in her mouth nearly every morning. She gives head like you wouldn't believe."

Bucky gave a mocking pout. "That good?"

He gave an abrupt cough of laughter that made his cock kick against Bucky's hand. "Don't get jealous, Buck."

"I'm not jealous. I just like to know the competition." He grinned. "What's it like to fuck her, Steve? Is she demanding? A tease?"

"She's… generous." The syllables came out as a long sigh as he arched off the bed. "God, when she's on her back and I'm plowing into her it's hard to remember what she's like outside. She just folds around me and it's like gravity. But she's… She's the same person. She's amazing. She's- ah… Buck..."

"She's been good for you. I can tell."

"We've been… ah… good for each other… Buck… Bucky, please."

Bucky's fist was moving faster now, fingers tightening and catching on the head of his cock and stoking his arousal higher and higher. His body was growing taut, arching like a drawn bow.

"Please Buck… I'm so close…"

"Tell me something." Bucky said, easing off the pressure just a little, arresting him at the edge.

Steve kept arching after his hand. "Anything… anything you... want…"

"Actually, on second thought, promise me something."

"Buck, please!"

"Promise me you'll call her when I go under."

Steve's eyes shot wide staring helplessly up at him, unable to make his mouth form the words and equally unable to make his hips stop their ceaseless chase of Bucky's hand.

"Promise me." Bucky repeated, his strokes growing more insistent.

"I promise." he finally said, the words coming out as hissing ghosts. But no less ardent for their desperate softness.

Bucky leaned down, covering Steve's gasping mouth with his own, coursing his tongue past his teeth in a sinuous rhythm that matched that of his hand. "Come for me, Steve." Bucky whispered against his lips as he gave a wicked little twist of his wrist. Steve came hard as much in response to the words as the delicious new friction on his cock. Come striped his chest and he wailed, half formless, and half a vague outline of Bucky's name. Or maybe the word "please" again. Or possibly some desperate amalgamation of the two.

He wound down slowly, lying there panting as Bucky cleaned them off with one of their discarded bath towels from the previous night.

"I promise." Steve whispered again, catching Bucky's eyes with his own as he laid down beside him again. 

And just like that the spell was broken. The weight of the day came crashing back down onto them.

"Good." Bucky said trying his best to sound nonchalant. "I don't… I…"

"She'll keep me out of trouble." Steve assured him. "Or at the very least, make sure I get in the appropriate kind of trouble."

"I really could tell she'd been good for you." Bucky said, tracing a finger along Steve's hairline. "I'm grateful to her. I… I want to tell her that eventually."

"You'll get to." Steve said, summoning all the surety he could if only for Bucky's sake. "Shuri is a genius. She'll get it all figured out."

Bucky could only nod. "We should head back to the lab. I told Shuri I'd be there before lunch. But… we probably could use another shower first."

"Probably." Steve reluctantly agreed, even though his arm had found its way back around Bucky's waist, fingers idly playing against the arch of his hip bone. He didn't want to go anywhere. For the moment, all he cared about was what happened in this bed. He didn't want to leave it. Leave Bucky. Leave the little nest of twisted sheets and tangled limbs that they'd created.

But it was always this way. Never more than the briefest rest for either of them.

It would be alright though, he told himself. Bucky wanted this. He had made a decision for himself for the first time in decades, and it was important that it be honored. Just like Peggy said, and when had she ever been wrong? So with a weighty sigh, he levered himself up out of bed, pulling Bucky after him. Time to get on with the day.

No matter how awful.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but the poem I'm using for the fic and chapter titles is "Threshold of Night" by Kathleen Raine and has a beautiful musical arrangement for choir by composer Tarik O'Regan. You can find it on YouTube and it's totally worth a listen.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at @littlethingwithfeathers!


	6. My True Love Weeps Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve made his way slowly over, as if dragging his feet could postpone the inevitable. Bucky was staring off at nothing. It was nearly the same expression he'd had when Steve had found him in Zola's lab. That distant, lost thousand yard stare. He looked so small, with only one arm and hollow eyes, and that fatalistic slouch in his broad shoulders. 
> 
> Steve wondered briefly if this was how Bucky felt looking at him back in Brooklyn. Small and vulnerable, but with a hard stare.
> 
> But Bucky wasn't staring at nothing, Steve realized, when he got closer. He was staring at the cryo chamber directly opposite him. It looked nothing like the ones he'd seen in Siberia. Those hulking tanks made of rusted metal and cloudy glass the color of mustard gas. This was sleek and clean. All white and brushed steel. There was even cushioning where he'd be reclining, though Bucky would probably only feel it for a few moments on either side of his icy nap. 
> 
> But Bucky still stared at it like he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost-Monday!
> 
> I've got a full day of office work, errands, and rehearsal tomorrow so I didn't want this chapter to be late because of poor planning on my part. Especially since the editing and such was done.
> 
> Thank you again to KaminaDuck for his faithful beta reading services! Seriously... much love.
> 
> And thank you all for your kind words, your kudos, and your comments. It really means the world to me to see those email notifications pop up, and to hear what sorts of things are really resonating with y'all. Thank you so so so much!
> 
> Enjoy and I'll see you next Monday!

***

_I will not go back for sorrow or pain,_   
_For my true love weeps within_   
_And waits for my coming._

***

Steve trailed behind Bucky as they rounded the corner into the lab. Shuri was there to meet them, clean-faced and bright-eyed with the tails of her braids secured into a pair of buns on either side of her head. She greeted them both, smiling warmly and pulling Bucky after her towards an exam table. Steve watched as he hopped up on it with ease, even one handed. He'd done that move a few times, he gathered.

The realization made something in Steve's throat cinch closed suddenly. Like the slow squeeze of a hangman's noose. This certainly felt like going to a hanging. And it felt, surprisingly, as much like his own as Bucky's. 

"Captain Rogers?" one of Shuri's assistants touched his elbow. Steve felt his best attempt at a placid mask slip into place as he smiled and inclined his head to indicate he was listening. "Do you happen to have the file from Kiev with you? The one Natasha Romanoff supplied you?"

"It's in my bag upstairs." He replied with a nod. "Do you need it?"

"It could prove helpful in our efforts moving forward." 

"Once he's under, I'll run up and get it."

"Thank you, sir." The assistant gave him a professional smile and then drifted off to another task, clipboard tucked securely under her arm.

Steve turned back to Bucky. In that short exchange the lab assistants already had him hooked up to the monitoring equipment. Sensors and wires trailed everywhere around the resigned slump of Bucky's shoulders.

The noose tightened further, making him swallow hard against the tension. The inside of his throat felt like sandpaper. They were really doing this. He was really going to let Bucky do this.

Steve made his way slowly over, as if dragging his feet could postpone the inevitable. Bucky was staring off at nothing. It was nearly the same expression he'd had when Steve had found him in Zola's lab. That distant, lost thousand yard stare. He looked so small, with only one arm and hollow eyes, and that fatalistic slouch in his broad shoulders. 

Steve wondered briefly if this was how Bucky felt looking at him back in Brooklyn. Small and vulnerable, but with a hard stare.

But Bucky wasn't staring at nothing, Steve realized, when he got closer. He was staring at the cryo chamber directly opposite him. It looked nothing like the ones he'd seen in Siberia. Those hulking tanks made of rusted metal and cloudy glass the color of mustard gas. This was sleek and clean. All white and brushed steel. There was even cushioning where he'd be reclining, though Bucky would probably only feel it for a few moments on either side of his icy nap. 

But Bucky still stared at it like he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

Steve stepped purposefully into his field of vision. "Sure about this?" He asked, realizing now that maybe Bucky wasn't as certain about this course of action as he'd been letting on.

Bucky's eyes flicked up to Steve's and then helplessly back to the chamber as he huffed out a sigh. He tried twice to find words, a few half formed sounds escaping his lips. "I can't trust my own mind." He finally settled on saying, briefly glancing up with a smile that wrung Steve's heart like a threadbare dishrag. Then he locked his eyes on the cryo chamber again. "So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing." 

Steve nodded, but he was clearly searching for an argument. A reason. Anything to keep Bucky from going away again. He certainly looked anything but thrilled at the idea, so maybe… maybe...

Bucky sensed his conflict, looking back up at him again with a smile that was a little more earnest than before. "For everybody."

And by "everybody" he clearly meant Steve, with his healthy collection of fading bruises all garnered in the name of protecting him. He might've been staring at the chamber like it was a crouching predator, but he would face it for Steve. He could face anything for Steve.

There was the soft sound of approaching footsteps and his eyes flicked from Steve's face to a point behind him and then back up.

"We are ready for you, Sergeant Barnes." Shuri said softly from the console beside the chamber. "Whenever you're ready. Take your time."

Both men nodded, and Steve put out his hand to help Bucky from the table. But it was really just an excuse to touch him, which Bucky happily indulged. He clung to Steve's hand as they walked the handful of steps across the room. Assistants starting to bustle around them with IV bags, data pads, and all sorts of charts Steve didn't want to look at or even think about.

"I'm not going anywhere." Bucky said, tightening his fingers around Steve's. "I'm going to be right here. And when I wake up, we can pick this up where we left off."

Steve nodded, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. He couldn't look anywhere but his boots. Not at Bucky. Not at the chamber. Nowhere was a safe place for his sight to fall. It all had the potential to rupture the tenuous and iron-hard grip he had on his heart.

"Hey." Bucky untangled their hands so he could lift Steve's chin. "Kiss me, Steve." he said, angling his head just so with a smile in his eyes that was only for Steve. 

The line of his neck was so pretty like this, Steve thought. His slate gray eyes ringed with those ridiculously dark eyelashes. Steve was even getting used to the beard and long hair. And that smile… would it always be the same? Could Steve just stare like this forever? Tease him and his ridiculous mouth with the promise of a kiss? Would Bucky just hang there forever… both of them suspended in time waiting for the other to give in but both too stubborn and pleased? Would that prolong the inevitable? 

The noose tightened again now that they were on the precipice. Standing on the trapdoor. And it was getting hard to breathe. Like the air was made of molten lead.

Steve had ultimately never been able to deny Bucky anything. Not a kiss. Not a touch. And not his choice, it would seem. 

He covered Bucky's lips with his own, drinking him down greedily. All of it. Every sensation. The rasp of his beard. The sweet slip of his tongue over Steve's. The way Bucky inhaled as if he could draw Steve into his body with no more effort than a pleasured sigh. He breathed it in like it was the last breath he would ever take. Would the scent of his best friend linger until the air froze in his lungs with the last gasp?

For awhile, Steve firmly told himself. Only for awhile. Just until they fixed this. Not forever.

They leaned their foreheads together a moment, swaying and rocking. "Call Natasha." Bucky reminded him softly. "You promised you would."

"I will." Steve nodded as much as their proximity allowed.

"I'll be right here." Bucky assured him again. "This is not the end of the line for us. Not by a long shot."

"I know." Steve tried and failed to not sound utterly miserable.

Bucky cradled the bruised side of Steve's face, drawing back enough to look him in the eye. "I love you. That's why I need to do this."

"I love you too, Buck." Steve sighed, and gave him an utterly miserable but still genuine smile. "That's why I'm letting you."

Bucky took his hand again, on the auspice of seeking balance to help him step into the chamber, but really he just wanted to have that last touch. He turned in place, and leaned back as the attendant positioned and tightened the straps. Steve felt his fingers flex as he fought the instinctual panic raised by the restraints. But took no more than a squeeze of Steve's hand and a rib-stretching breath and it passed. 

They hung on for a moment, fingers tangling together before dropping to their sides as the glass tube slid into place, locking with a hiss. Bucky didn't look at him, the steely thousand yard stare returning for a moment before he closed his eyes. Then there was another crackling hiss as the machine engaged and the glass was glazed over with ice. And just like that, Bucky was no more than a distorted shape beyond a crystalline patina of ice.

Steve swallowed thickly as the bottom dropped out of the world. The noose snapped taut and pressure throbbed suddenly at his temples. He leaned his face against the glass, cool against his forehead as hot tears chased down his cheeks.

_He's not gone. He's right there._

Steve kept repeating this to himself through the wet snuffling sounds that repeatedly fogged the glass. But it already felt like Bucky was a million miles away again. Or maybe more like a million years. Already he would give anything to hear Bucky's voice some place other than his own memories. He'd grown so tired of replaying old memories.

But this was Bucky's choice, he reminded himself tersely, cracking the thought across his heart like a whip. Just like Peggy had said. He should be allowed the dignity of it. He didn't want to be used again. And Steve could understand that if nothing else. Sure, SHIELD had used him, but it had still been his decision to pick up his shield every time. Bucky wanted to secure that choice for himself. And that was not nothing.

He felt a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. Small and slight, but strong. He looked to see Shuri, her young face pinched with a sympathetic frown. He stepped back rather sharply, unsure how long he'd been standing there, pitifully sobbing over her pristine lab equipment. He forced himself upright with a soldier's hardcoded instinct. 

"I'm sorry. Do I need to go?" he asked, the words saturated and clumsy as they stuck in his nose.

"No, no… take all the time you need." she replied, her hand still fixed to the spot on his back, rubbing in slow circles. "I'm sorry you're having to go through with this again, Captain Rogers. I wish the answer were obvious, but the solution will take time to uncover. And this was what he thought was best."

"I know. And if it were anyone else I would have no problem agreeing to their decision. But it's Bucky… and…" He shook himself clawing for some shred of composure. "I'm sorry you're having to comfort a mess of a soldier when you have your own grieving to do." Steve replied before falling silent for a moment, one hand splayed out on the glass as if he could somehow reach Bucky through it.

"I have not grieved alone. And neither should you." She answered gently.

He shouldn't be doing this. Foisting his grief off onto a child. But he'd started talking and now the dam was broken. "I can't help him, Shuri. I can't… there's nothing I can do, even though I'm the reason he's here. It's my fault. He never did anything to deserve this other than just loving me. Loving the wrong guy."

"I have a feeling that last statement is his fight to fight… not mine." A clever smile flickered at the corner of her mouth before her expression turned serious again. "But I'll tell you this. I may only be fifteen, and I am certainly no soldier. But… I do know something at least of how you feel. When my brother goes off to fight some fight that I can't engineer a way out of for him… it wounds me to think about it. Especially when he comes home injured. When any of our people comes home injured. Nakia. General Okoye and her Dora Milaje. I feel like it's on me to keep them safe. And I could do it. If I could just anticipate… predict their struggles."

Steve sniffed. "You sound like Tony Stark. It's a lot of pressure to put on yourself."

Shuri puffed out her cheeks in a laugh. "I have more sense in my little finger than that man has in the whole of his thick skull."

Steve let her laugh infect him a little as he wiped at his cheeks. "I don't doubt it."

"You're a fighter. And I'm a scientist. My brother is a fighter. Sergeant Barnes is a fighter. Your friend Natasha is a spy. Each one of us has a different skill set." she ticked them off on her slim fingers. "What I'm saying is that we all have situations where we are helpless. And it's relying on each other that makes us stronger."

Steve blinked hard at that insight. She may not have been there for the battle of New York, or Ultron, or any of it. But she knew something of strength. Something of her own strength and of valuing it in others. He took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. "You're right about that."

She smiled then, warm and youthful but serious. "I've got your friend, Captain. I'm going to do everything I can for him. Just like I do for my stupid, reckless excuse for a brother." Shuri said, patting him on the back. "I swear it. And I swear that I'll have him back to you as fast as I can manage. And if you want to be in on what I'm doing, my lab is always open."

Steve took a deep breath, finally looking down at her youthful face, set with her keen eyes. "Thank you, Shuri. That means the world to me."

"Captain Rogers!" A deep familiar voice called from the lab entrance. They both looked to see T'Challa striding towards them wearing a welcoming smile. "I'm sorry I didn't make it down yesterday. I-" He took one look at the cryo chamber and sighed, the smile withering from his lips.

"Ah! Speak of the stupid, reckless excuse for the devil!" Shuri crowed, greeting her brother with the most complicated handshake Steve had ever seen which ended in some version of the cross-armed Wakandan salute. 

"Hello to you too, sister." he replied, his grin returning for the briefest moment before glancing over at the stasis chamber again. His mouth pulled in disappointment. "I'd hoped to make it before he went under."

Steve self consciously wiped his eyes, knowing they were red and a little swollen. "Please, it's alright. I understand. You're a very busy man these days with a country to run. Bucky said to tell you thank you. For everything."

"It's my pleasure. He is unknowingly doing me the service of keeping Shuri out of trouble."

Shuri punched him in the shoulder and he gave a theatrical wince. "Asshole." She sniped before drifting off to consult one of the holo-screens that scrolled continuously with data on Bucky's condition.

"I understand if I've caught you at an awkward moment." T'Challa said, folding his arms behind his back. "We can talk later if-"

"Not at all. I'm at your service, Your Highness."

T'Challa waved off the formality. "Please, I have only come with… an offer of further assistance, to you and your allies. The ones on the run from the UN and the CIA. But it can wait-"

Steve thought about letting him excuse himself, but he remembered what Shuri said about shared burdens. The prince wanted to help. And perhaps this was as much a distraction for T'Challa as it would be for Steve.

"No, I think a distraction is really best right now." Steve said, giving him a tight but appreciative smile as he forced himself to turn away from the cryo chamber.

"Very well, then." T'Challa mirrored his expression. "We'll get out of my sister's hair. Follow me upstairs."

The prince led Steve through a maze of hallways to what appeared to be a large receiving room on one of the upper floors of the palace. Every surface was brushed steel and gleamed faintly in the cloud-filtered sunlight that seeped in through the window that made up the outward facing wall. 

Steve drifted naturally to it, looking out over the mist shrouded jungle to where an enormous panther carved of jet black stone snarled back from atop a rocky outcropping. Within its jaws and behind its eyes, Steve could see dozens of people bustling about. It reminded him of the helicarrier bay back at the Triskelion.

_Assistance, indeed._ he thought.

"Thank you, for this." Steve said, sincerity threading through his grief-roughened voice as T'Challa took his place at the window alongside him. 

T'Challa let his eyes come to rest on the soldier beside him. "Your friend and my father. They were both victims. If I can help one of them find peace…" he let the thought trail off, not bothering to add that perhaps peace would elude both he and Steve for the time being. But it would be a worthy sacrifice. Whether for one man or for a whole nation.

"You know if they find out he's here," Steve pointed out, eyes sliding over to the prince. "They'll come for him."

T'Challa's shoulders squared, and Steve saw the king stand up within the young, grieving son of Wakanda. "Let them try." he said. There was no arrogance in his voice. No bluster or bravado. It was simply a stated fact. They could try. And they would fail. 

And for the first time all day, Steve felt truly comforted. It might not be ideal, but Bucky was safe here. Safer than he'd been in decades. Help was on its way. And in a way, help was here, in the man standing next to him. In that moment, T'Challa reminded Steve of Natasha in a way. She could be like that. Sure and steady and matter-of-fact.

Thinking of her, however fleetingly, made something in his heart twist. He had promised Bucky he would call her… and she probably was waiting to hear from him too, promises aside.

But he followed T'Challa's chillingly confident gaze out to the panther statue again. The mist had cleared and he could see quite clearly that his earlier impression had been right. The statue was a hangar for the Wakandan supply of highly advanced QuinJets, and as he watched, a sleek vibranium jet swooped into the panther's mouth to land.

"I wanted to show you what Wakanda might have to offer you, should you need assistance." T'Challa went on.

"Assistance with what?" Steve asked blinking in surprise.

T'Challa smirked at him. "Do you really think I believe you're just going to set up a summer home here and wait for Sergeant Barnes to thaw like an ice cube in your drink? Please."

Steve laughed a little at that, rubbing his neck with his open palm.

"You are of course welcome to stay as long as you like, in whatever fashion you like." T'Challa said, rocking back on his heels. "You'll be content here for awhile, I imagine, but trouble will find you. It always does. Believe me when I say that I know."

Steve smiled self-consciously. "I'll do my best to keep from causing issues while I'm here."

"That isn't what I said and you know it." T'Challa replied in a tone not unlike the one he used to scold his sister, complete with the knowing half-smile. "The world is going to keep on spinning, whether we like it or not. Accords or no Accords, the world will need people like us. And more specifically, people like you who are not beholden to the slower moving powers that pull the strings on the Accords."

Steve blinked slowly, taking in the unspoken parts of T'Challa's statement. "You saying you'll lend me a jet if I need a ride?"

"I'm saying I do not want you to stop your work in the world, Captain. The Wakandan people are not yet ready to reach out beyond our borders. Especially in light of the sudden passing of my father. But that does not mean we can't offer assistance in other ways. Our spy network operates across this continent, but it is not just this continent in need of help. If you need a covert base of operations, I'm offering you free reign in my country. If you wish to bring your other team members here, like Ms. Romanoff or Mr. Wilson, simply say the word. I will gladly arrange for them to be brought within our borders. As far as gear or supplies, I will lend you and your friends anything they need. And if we don't have it, Shuri will build it." He cut a sly look to Steve. "Please give that girl something to do before she decides to amuse herself by tinkering with my suits without telling me again."

Steve smiled at that, and it actually threatened to turn into a laugh. "Happy to be of service, your Highness."

"T'Challa. Please." he insisted, extending his hand.

"Then it's Steve." came the reply as Steve grasped it. "And… I'm sorry about your father. I don't think I've had the opportunity to tell you. I feel at least partly responsible."

"Thank you for your condolences. But you played no part in that."

"A lot of heartache can be traced back to a single mistake that I made, in not going back to rescue Bucky when he fell from that train." Steve responded, shuffling his feet. "It's hard to feel like a great deal of things are not my fault."

"There are some men who will do some interesting gymnastics to keep from shouldering rightful blame. You do the same gymnastics to bear it for others." T'Challa mused. "That alone tells me that, mistakes aside, you are a good man."

Steve nodded, studying the tops of his boots. "I try to be."

"As do we all." he agreed. "And speaking of which, I have to go deal with matters of state. But please, do not hesitate to reach out if you are inclined to talk. Business or otherwise. My door is always open.

"Thank you, T'Challa."

The prince withdrew, leaving Steve to contemplate the curls of mist drifting between the treetops. After a long span of silence, pacing in front of the window and watching the QuinJets come and go, he pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text to Natasha. He wasn't ready to call her to Wakanda yet. He still had a lot of unanswered questions regarding Bucky, and now regarding his plans moving forward.

Or maybe it was _their_ plans now.

But either way, a promise was a promise.

***

A week filtered by, and Steve was both painfully aware and completely numb to the time passing. At first he tried distracting himself, spending the daylight hours exercising and trying his hand at Wakandan weaponry. Hand to hand would always be his wheelhouse, but as it turned out he wasn't a bad shot with those spear-chuckers. Maybe it was all that practice with his old shield. 

He visited with their espionage division a few times and played with some highly advanced stealth toys. Even took one of their vibranium Quinjets out for a spin. They'd be flying under the radar now, so it couldn't hurt to have an edge there. And Wakandan tech seemed to have the edge everywhere.

But eventually, and in astonishingly short order, he had exhausted himself. Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. He just couldn't keep running in the hamster wheel of his own making. There weren't enough distractions to keep his mind away from Bucky. So after a few days, he just kept to his room if he wasn't paying a visit to Shuri's lab. He saw no need to impose his melancholy on the rest of the palace.

He went to the lab every day, of course. Without fail, just like the museum back in D.C. He didn't make a nuisance of himself to Shuri's staff or linger overlong, but he couldn't make himself stay away. And they seemed to understand.

At least once per visit, Shuri tried to distract him with some cool piece of tech she was working on. Upgraded Widow's Bite gauntlets. Lighter weight bulletproofing for his tac suit. Improved engines for the stealth model of the QuinJet. She even let him go to town in a test chamber with her panther gauntlets to test a new targeting system. She counted it a success if she could make him smile, and so far she was about fifty-fifty. Sometimes he would lose himself to the distraction, smiling and laughing, or getting caught up in the strategic chatter. But sometimes his eye would always rove to the cryo chamber, trying to pierce the ice that separated him from the only thing that had ever mattered. It was always worth trying to Shuri regardless.

For their part, the rest of the royal family did their best to accommodate Steve and the ever-attendant shadow of his grief. They made an effort to include him in their lives as much as possible, but understood when their invitations to dinner or excursions to the outer farms were more often than not politely declined. 

The days cycled. Time seemed to drag on forever. But the worst of it came when Shuri approached Steve during one of his visits to the lab wearing a pinched expression that spelled bad news.

"I'm afraid we've hit something of a snag." she said her voice halting and lacking its usual optimistic luster.

Steve felt his face crumple at the edges, but he schooled it quickly, resolved to hear her out. If she was coming to him there might be something he could do. 

_Something he could do._ God, if only...

"Let me first assure you that I know what to do to help Sergeant Barnes. That is not the issue. The HYDRA mental programming is not terribly sophisticated. Between my scans and the file you provided us with, it's all very simple."

"Okay, so how does it work?" Steve folded his arms.

"The HYDRA scientists used electrical impulses coupled with… well, I won't get into it - to overwrite normal mental faculties. Each word in the ten word trigger code was hard coded so to speak to take Sergeant Barnes to a placid, blank state that they could control as necessary for missions. I have access to the very same technology in my lab. We don't use it for that, obviously, but it exists. So, this isn't a concept I'm unfamiliar with."

"So what's the hang up?"

"The hang up is that without the exact voltage and frequency, I'd be stabbing in the dark in my efforts to undo it." Shuri replied braiding her fingers together and wringing them out. "And while I'd normally be fine letting my computers do that work for me, trial and error is not an option here."

"You could hurt him." Steve supplied.

"It's worse than that, actually. You name the sort of brain damage, I could cause it with even one of the variables being the slightest bit off. It would be worse than wiping memories. He could lose cognitive function… his personality could be altered..."

"So, you need to know what they did. So you can undo it safely." He said with a short nod.

"Yes. I need to know the numbers. Frequencies. Voltage. All of it. I don't have a way forward without that information. It's nowhere in the file."

Steve nodded again, squaring his shoulders slightly and feeling his jaw clench. The anxiety in his gut came unwound, only to be replaced by a restlessness that he felt down in his core like the scrape of rough wool over raw skin. It wasn't good news. But it was news. And more importantly, it was news he could do something about. 

He smiled at Shuri, his assuring and gentling smile. The old Captain America smile. "Let me look into it while you keep working. We can't all be everywhere after all." he said, touching her shoulder. A little of the light came back into her youthful face with his assurance. "Can I have the file from Kiev? I'm going to make some calls."

She nodded before pointing across the lab with her chin. "I was hoping you would have some ideas. It's on my desk."

"I don't have any ideas. But I do know someone who knows where to start looking."

Steve fetched the file, nervously thumbing the weathered edge of the manila folder as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

Natasha's phone.

He dialed quickly and pressed the phone to his ear listening intently to the crackling tone as it rang. He couldn't deny the apprehension that wormed through his gut as he waited, nor could he ignore the guilt that chased hot on its heels, intent on devouring it whole. 

_He didn't need to worry,_ he told himself. And truth be told, he hadn't worried until he'd hit the call button. That was when the sudden and completely irrational fear that she might not come through took hold. It had been awhile since he'd called and he hoped she wouldn't hold that against him. But surely he didn't need to worry that she would answer, he told himself firmly. She would. She'd given her word that she would.

And she did.

"Steve." Natasha's voice came through the connection with only minimal distortion.

He decided then and there that his name on her lips from over that crackling phone speaker was one of his favorite sounds.

"Hi Natasha." he replied, gripping the phone a little tighter and not bothering to hide the relief in his tone. "How goes it with you?"

"I'm back in Morocco. Different safehouse." she said, a smile coloring her voice. "Got our gear with me."

"That's good." he said, nodding stiffly to himself. "Sam with you?"

"No. He took his wings and headed off to do a little… off the books work for the US military. One of his old search and rescue buddies is in a tight spot."

"Is he-" Steve started and pulled up short.

"I've got eyes on him. Don't worry. He checks in at regular intervals."

Steve took a breath, nodding to himself again even though she couldn't see. "Good. Okay."

"Sharon said to tell you hello, by the way."

He perked up a little at that. "Is she alright?"

"She's good. Works security for Stark under Maria Hill. My old detail. We made a clean getaway with the gear so she's off the hook. Still decided she should get out of the public sector for now though."

"Good. That's good." Steve's voice was stiff under the effort of sounding calm. He was out of smalltalk he realized. Suddenly being on the precipice of facing the reality… Bucky's reality, was not doing anything for his nerves. He was going to have to say it out loud. Admit that despite his bravado and assurances, that there was a problem with Bucky, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't fall apart when he did.

"What is it, Steve?" she asked after a space of dead air.

He was silent for a moment more as he pulled his thoughts together, a grim but strangely satisfied smile painting his lips. Of course she knew something was wrong. Of course she could hear his anxiety bleeding through a distorted cell signal from thousands of miles away and know that everything was not okay. And that he was about to ask for her help.

_Tell me,_ her voice had implored. _Whatever it is, just tell me and we can get started._

"There's an issue with Bucky's… HYDRA programming." he blurted out. Rip the bandaid off all at once, and this would be easier. "Shuri says she… she doesn't have a way around it."

Steve heard a rustling sound through the connection. Sheets over skin and soft clothes. She'd been in bed. He let himself imagine it for a moment… let the image of her reclining in bed reading dossiers and news updates in pajamas. Her sharpness never dulled by comfort.

"What's the issue?" her voice brought him back to reality.

"They used… electrical impulses to overwrite his mental faculties. Erase memories and induce… certain behavior and mental states." Steve's mouth worked bitterly around the words. "And without knowing exactly what they did, Shuri can't undo it. She could experiment but that could cause irreparable damage."

"Well, we've all had more than enough of that." Natasha said, her tone calm and cool. She sounded like she did when she was around a table back at the Triskelion planning a mission. And strangely Steve derived some comfort from that. "Alright then. How do you want to do this? Do you want to meet me here or-"

"I would rather you came here. T'Challa gave us carte blanche to operate out of Wakanda. Can you get to Lagos?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Get to the airport by day after tomorrow. Go to the baggage claim and make a request in Russian. They'll get a translator. Tell her, "I'm looking for a suitcase with a star on the tag." She'll ask if it came with you from the US. Tell her that yes, you brought it from Brooklyn."

Her laughter purred across the connection. "Oooh. Old-school spy stuff, Rogers. I'm excited."

He laughed at that as well, unable to stop himself. "Anything to make you feel more at home." he teased. "Your contact is a Wakandan spy. She knows you by the reputation of your work in Morocco."

"Okay. I'm going to pack up then." Natasha confirmed, a tight smile coloring her voice.

"You're not even going to ask what I need you for?" Steve asked. 

"You'll tell me details when I get there. I figure that will give you enough time to come up with a plan. Or at least a starting place." She was quiet for a moment. "You called me for help and I answered, Steve. The conversation ends there as far as I'm concerned." He heard a rustling as she cocked her head. "It would be the same if our situations were reversed, wouldn't it? That's how this works."

Steve smiled. It was aching and grateful all at once. "Yeah. That's how this works. I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Less if I can manage." She replied and a long silence followed. He thought for a second that she'd hung up, but then he heard her sigh. "I think it's your turn?"

The smile grew on his face, chasing the hard lines from his brow if only for a moment. "Are we keeping score now?" he teased, his voice going warm and soft for the first time in days.

"We are if it makes you smile." She didn't need to ask if it did. She could hear it in his voice.

"Be careful, Nat."

"You too, Steve."

Then the line went dead with a soft click, and Steve pocketed the phone. The smile stayed on his face. 

He turned back towards the lab and stepped inside. A handful of lab assistants still bustled around the cryo chamber taking readings and monitoring screens. He stepped close to the glass tube where Bucky was frozen into a gentle-seeming repose. Certainly more gentle than the pictures that had been in his file. 

Steve raised his hand to touch the glass, the surface fogging between his fingers. He breathed a heavy, steadying sigh as he centered himself enough to begin planning. Natasha was on her way. They would get answers and have Bucky out of there in no time. He just had to do the one thing that no amount of serum, or innate stubbornness, or friendly advice had been able to help him do.

Be patient and wait.

Natasha was coming. Natasha would help him find answers. It was going to be fine.

He just needed to wait.

***

Natasha was escorted into Wakanda aboard a highly advanced Quinjet by none other than Wakanda's spymaster, Nakia. Natasha had heard her name before (and she hers, as it turned out) but never in conjunction with a specific country or seat of power. She just knew Nakia was notorious for disrupting transport lines in human trafficking rings to the south of where Natasha normally operated. They passed the time on their relatively short flight comparing notes. It was nice to have a colleague. Natasha hadn't had many opportunities for such a conversation, even at SHIELD.

Once they touched down on the palace airfield, the two disembarked. Natasha hustled a respectful few paces behind the other spy, her eyes wandering everywhere they could reach. She'd heard a lot about Wakanda… how advanced. How beautiful. But nothing had quite done justice to the reality of such a place.

"It's good to be home." Nakia tossed the words over her shoulder when she caught the look of wonder on Natasha's face. 

"I can understand why."

"Where is home for you, Ms. Romanoff?" she asked. 

"Currently? He's in one of your suites in the palace. Or pestering whoever's responsible for Sergeant Barnes." she gave her a shrug and a warm smile. "That's the best I've got."

The other spy returned the expression, reaching out to grip her new colleague's shoulder. "It's not bad." she replied.

"I've definitely done worse."

Once they'd entered the shadow of the palace proper, Nakia fell back so they were in lock-step together. "We'll head down to Shuri's lab. I imagine if that's where Sergeant Barnes is, Captain Rogers won't be far."

But when they entered the hallowed quiet of the lab looking for Steve, Shuri just shrugged. "He's not here. Hasn't been down since yesterday. Not since I told him we'd hit a snag. He made a phone call, took the file folder and I haven't seen him since."

Nakia's mouth pulled. "What that man is going through… he has to be superhuman. It would kill anyone else."

"Agreed." Shuri nodded. "He's probably up in his room. I gave him the Winter Soldier file back so he could let Natasha have a look at it. I take it this must be her?"

The two women looked up to find Natasha had wandered off a few steps, drawn by the invisible gravity of the occupied cryo chamber near the center of the room. Through the uneven patina of ice, she could see Bucky's face. See the scruff he hadn't bothered to shave. Or the long hair falling across one cheek. On instinct, she raised her hand to the glass, resting her fingertips there as if she could reach through to brush it aside. He looked serene though. Not locked into an ice-rimed grimace like the other pictures she'd seen of him in HYDRA's cryo chambers. He truly had done this willingly.

For Steve, if she had to guess.

When she realized that the conversation had lulled, she turned back to the other two, letting her hand fall back to her side. "Where did you say Steve was?"

"Probably up in his room." Shuri said, pointing vaguely over her head. "Top of those stairs in the back, left down the hall, second door on the right."

Both Natasha and Nakia nodded. "I trust you can find your way?" Nakia asked. "I need to go check in with General Okoye. Technically that should have been my first stop but I am sure she'll be understanding."

"I'll manage. Thank you for your help, Nakia. Shuri." Natasha said, putting out her hand. Nakia clasped it tightly with both of hers, and Shuri followed in turn. "I apologize for seeming abrupt."

"Not at all." Shuri said, waving her off. "Thank you for coming to help Sergeant Barnes." 

"Well... " Natasha trailed off in thought for a moment, eyes finding the cryo chamber again. "I owe him. And I owe Steve. They're… my friends. And I owe them."

"If they're your friends, you never owe them a thing." Nakia replied a sage smile pulling at her lips.

"You're right." Natasha said lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "But I have a hard time unprogramming that thinking."

"Believe me, I know. I may not be Red Room trained, but once second guessing becomes second nature, and favors paid and earned become a way of life? It's hard to remember you have friends." Nakia said. "Every favor becomes a favor owed."

"Agreed." Natasha replied.

"Take care. I'm sure this is not the last we will see of each other."

Natasha nodded and headed for the back stairs. A few flights and a couple of turns later and she was standing outside Steve's door. She actually hesitated as soon as she'd raised her fist to knock on the ornately carved wood, though she couldn't name why. Not because she didn't want to see him. Or because she was afraid of what was going on with Bucky. Those two things were what brought her here with all haste. It was almost as if she could sense the weight of the air in the adjoining room. Taste the tension at the back of her throat like bitter bile.

It was always like this with them. The air was never clear. There was always some hurt. Some deep pain or desperate longing that brought them together or was threaded through every encounter. Something about that didn't seem right. And yet she couldn't ever find it within her to look too far into it. Her friend needed her, and that was the end it.

That was how this worked.

She tightened her fist and knocked, finding the door was actually unlatched. It swung in by a few inches allowing her to glimpse Steve inside sitting listlessly in a tall backed chair. He looked up at the sound of the hinges laboring and, seeing Natasha's familiar face framed in the doorway, he bounded across the room. She barely got inside with the door closed before he had her wrapped in a fierce embrace. 

At first his arms encircled her tightly. So tightly she could think of nothing but his superhuman-ness. How he could probably crush the life out of her just like this and she would be powerless to stop him. But that show of strength only bled desperate desire for closeness, because a scant pull of breath later, he was sagging against her, arms falling loose around her waist as she kept pulling him closer. 

Strangely, that only made her powerlessness that much more apparent. What was she going to do? How was she going to fix this if the strongest person she knew...

Strength was not her power, she reminded herself. He didn't call her here because he needed physical strength. He and Bucky both had that in spades. No, what he needed was her.

"I'm so glad you're here." he whispered into her hair, almost as if he were reading her thoughts.

"You called and I answered." she replied, the words spoken against his t-shirt before she pulled back to look up at him. He looked so exhausted. The shadows under his beautiful blue eyes were deeper than she'd ever seen them, and the scruff growing in on his jaw told her he hadn't shaved in a few days. 

"No problems getting here?" He asked, tucking a strand of her bleached hair behind one ear.

"Nope. Nakia is a pro. I already love it here." Natasha replied, making a show of looking around the room. "I hope you're planning on staying."

That made Steve smile, even though it never quite reached his eyes.

"And don't worry. The gear came with me and it's on its way to the lab. I figure Shuri might want to have a look, like you said. She's a very bright girl."

"That she is. Blindingly so. I have trouble keeping up. I think…" he hesitated, expression turning sad and inward. "I think even Tony might."

"Well, we'll get them together one day and find out." Natasha responded, surprising herself with her own genuine hopefulness. Someone had to be positive. Yet another gap for her to fill, she reckoned. 

She cast her eyes around the sun-drenched room again, hoping for a distraction. "This is really nice."

"Yeah, they really pulled out all the stops." Steve said, exhaustion creeping back into his tone. "It's actually where Bucky was staying. I just…" he trailed off.

Natasha raised up on tip toe and lightly kissed the unspoken words from his lips. He was so wrung out, and she couldn't bear to see him standing under his own power a minute longer. He looked on the verge of collapse. "Come on." She drug him by the hand towards the bed.

"I don't-" but he was already following the pull of her hand.

She stopped in her tracks, his hand still in hers. "No, no… I just want you to relax and tell me where we are with this." she cut him off, sensing that he had very much the wrong idea. "But I don't want you to do it standing in the door, or all formal-like over a table, or God forbid, in a meeting room. The last time we were in a room like that together sitting around a table, you and Tony nearly came to blows and I'm just… I'm tired of doing it that way." She reached up to push his hair back out of his eyes. "I want to do this with my friend. So, come on… Come tell me what I need to know. I want… I want to know where we stand with Bucky."

Steve nodded, his eyes a little hazy and unfocused at her words. He followed the tug of her hand easy as anything, crossing to the bed and stretching out across it at her direction. She moved up against the headboard, curling her legs into a pretzel and and cradling his head between her knees.

"Alright," she said, looking down at him as her hands carded through his hair. It was getting a little shaggy. "Comfortable?"

He nodded staring at her upside-down, eyes still a little distant, but soft. And wanting. Wanting of this and nothing else. Of the touch of her hand, and the space to just be boneless and free.

"Good…" she said her tone turning almost playfully businesslike and serious. "Now… Where are we stuck and what can I do to help? Tell me everything."

And so Steve did. He closed his eyes and let her combing fingers draw the story out of him. About how Bucky had insisted on going back on ice, and how T'Challa had offered them not only asylum, but a base of operations and the full advantage of Wakandan technology. He told her about the eventual discovery of the road block, and how Shuri was certain if she could just get the information about the equipment and the frequencies she could fix Bucky's… issue. But they needed that information if they were to do anything. That was where they were stuck.

"I take it you've been pouring over the file." Natasha said, eyeing where it still sat on the table. The edges of the file looked much more worn than the last time she'd seen it.

"I don't think there's anything in there." Steve said defeatedly. "Shuri would have found it if there was, and besides. But I looked anyway. Even though I know tracing Bucky's file is a dead end. It always has been. We never found anything."

"Right, because he was trying to stay one step ahead of you." Her eyes went distant for a moment as the machinery of her mind whirred to life. "But he wasn't the only Winter Soldier. There were other Assets at HYDRA. Other Winter Soldiers. And they aren't alive anymore to out maneuver us. If we could find their files... their records, we might be able to find the protocols used to create them."

"Do… do you think so?" Steve asked, his voice halting around the words as if he didn't dare hope. 

But Natasha nodded with growing fervor. "Let me… Let me get in touch with my contact in Kiev. The one that gave me that folder. He should get us something. Or at least be able to tell us where to start digging."

Steve gave a weaving nod and then shrugged, settling back against her legs. "It's a place to start." he said. "How soon can you reach him?"

"I'll send him a message now, actually. We communicate exclusively over an easily scrubbed text-based avenue. Here." she tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Let me up and I'll go do that. It might take him some time to get back to me."

Steve curled up enough to free Natasha and allow her to scurry over to the bag she dropped at the door. She pulled out her tablet, settled herself onto a giant pouf covered in a beautiful woven blanket and set to typing.

 

_Grigory,_

_I require further information regarding the HYDRA Asset program code named "Winter Soldier." Specifically, I seek information about their mind control and brainwashing protocols? Please respond. I will meet you in Kiev. Usual place. Usual time._

_Natalia._

 

She hit send and settled back into the cushion, heaving an unexpectedly cavernous yawn. She was about to give a mighty stretch when a sharp snort behind her made her jump. She looked back to see Steve sprawled out in bed, one arm tucked behind his head and his breathing gone soft and steady. In the time it had taken her to type and send that short message, he had fallen fast asleep. She smiled sadly, while taking stock of herself. She was very tired. Last time she'd slept was more than 30 hours prior. But she didn't feel nearly as tired as Steve looked. Even asleep his face sunk in at sharp angles, and his eyes were hooded with the shadows that always seemed to trail him.

They'd finally caught him in a way. 

She made her way over to the bed, slipping in beside him to puddle up under one arm. He snuffled a little, rolling against her on instinct and pulling her close. And she swore she saw him smile a little in his sleep. Natasha let herself be lost to the sensation of his arms and the steady rhythm of his breathing. To the warm sun and the fresh air. It all coalesced into a wonderful cocoon of peace, however transient. She'd learned to never shy from taking advantage when she had the opportunity. And she did now. There was no rush to accomplish anything. And so she drifted off as well, eyes falling closed as the world faded to sweet comforting dark around her.

***

Natasha woke after nightfall to an empty bed. Her limbs stretched blindly out to the vacant space on the pillow beside her, and when she grasped nothing but air and cool, tangled sheets, she snapped awake. She sat up stiffly, wiping sleep from her eyes and wincing at her sore joints. She'd obviously slept for hours, completely unmoving and still in her clothes. Apparently, she'd needed it as much as Steve...

But where was Steve?

She cast her bleary eyes around the dark room and noticed a shadow streaking across the floor, slowly idling back and forth. She pulled herself up and peeked out onto the balcony to find Steve pacing along the balcony rail, staring out into the night.

"Hey." she called gently, still tucked in the shadows of the bedroom.

"Hey, Nat." Steve replied, casting a warm glance over his shoulder. "Did I wake you?"

"No. I woke up on my own." she answered, watching him for a moment. His pacing had stilled when he'd heard her voice, but his eyes still busily scanned the dark seam of the horizon. "Shall… shall I leave you to it? I know… that this has been hard."

Steve didn't answer. Not with words, in any case. Instead he just reached out blindly with one hand, palm up but relaxed. As if he knew she'd come. 

Just like he knew she'd answer the phone when he called.

Natasha stepped out into the moonlight, pressing her hand into his and letting him reel her in against his side. For a long space they just breathed the humid jungle air between them, listening to the chattering insects hidden in the trees below. 

"This place is amazing." Steve said after a while, tucking Natasha's head under his chin.

Natasha hummed her agreement, though she wasn't sure if she was talking about Wakanda, or just the wonderful space between Steve's arms.

"A whole civilization, completely hidden. No one knew they were here. No one ever suspected any of this. Not ever. Not even a rumor. Not SHIELD. Not HYDRA. How do you hide something like this? How do you..." He trailed off with a shake of his head.

Natasha looked up at him propping her chin on his chest. "You almost sound jealous."

Steve swallowed around her words. "I suppose I am." he said softly.

She cocked her head slightly. "You never struck me as the hiding type, Steve."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, pulling back a little from her embrace, but not leaving her arms entirely. Shame was the only thing putting distance between them.

"Doesn't mean I've never wanted to." he said, his voice barely audible over the drone of the nocturnal insects. "Doesn't mean I don't want to now." 

She raised her hand, cupping his unshaven jaw trying and failing to get him to meet her eyes. "Do you want me to deal with getting this info from my contact in Kiev? Let you stay here?"

Steve shook his head sharply, but then leaned into her hand. "No… thank you, Nat, but I should go with you. I want to stay here but only because Bucky is here. But I can't help him from here. I want Bucky to get better and then I never ever want to leave. So, I should go with you to Kiev. I'm going to go crazy here by myself, kind as the royal family has been."

Natasha's keen eyes narrowed slightly. "What's eating you, Steve? Something clearly is, and it's not Bucky. Not just that anyway. You've never been the sort to broodily pace in the moonlight before."

That made him crack a smile as he continued to study the mist-shrouded trees. "It's something T'Challa said to me right after Bucky went under. He told me he would give me full reign of Wakanda's technology… resources… whatever I needed. He said… he said he didn't want to stop my work in the world." he paused, laving his tongue over his bottom lip before worrying it between his teeth. "Is that my place in the world, Nat? Fighting battles for other people? Is that all I'm ever going to be good for? God, I know I'm a soldier but…"

"But every problem is not a war." Natasha picked up for him, taking his chin between her fingers and finally forcing him to look at her. "That is why you have me. That is why you have Sam. You have a team. You're not much of a captain without a team."

Steve just shook his head. "I don't feel much like a captain anymore. Certainly not Captain America… or representing anyone, really. I feel… like I've wandered from that."

Natasha carded her hand into his shaggy hair. "I don't think you've wandered as far as you think you have. The world's just changed. And trust me, it's going to keep changing. I've been in this business for long enough to know, and believe me… long enough was not all that long at all."

Steve sighed, folding Natasha back against his chest and pressing his nose into her soft blonde hair. It looked almost white in the moonlight, framing her face like a halo. It reminded him of the icons of the saints back in Catholic school and he smiled at the whimsical image. 

Saint Natasha. Patron Saint of Wayward Super Soldiers. Who would have thought?

Natasha laid her ear against Steve's breastbone and listened to the steady thump of his heart as it beat out its heavy rhythm under the constant buzz of the jungle insects. She could practically feel his pulse in her teeth from this proximity. Steady. Even. Insistent. Just like the man himself. 

For awhile she rocked herself there, listening to his heart, and to the alien sounds of a Wakandan evening, and to her own thoughts as she meticulously laid out a plan for getting to Kiev. After awhile, she looked out over the fog covered trees, and noticed the horizon slowly sharpening as the sky to the east turned gray.

"Didn't realize it was so late. Or so early, I suppose, depending on who's counting." she said, her face splitting in a yawn.

"I think I'm up for good." Steve said. "But if you want some more sleep…"

"No, I think I'm alright. It's a long flight to Kiev anyway."

"You've heard back from your contact?"

"Not yet, but we're going to Kiev regardless. Either we will hear from him and hopefully he'll have hard info for us that shouldn't be sent over any communication, however secure. Or we won't hear from him which means he's gone missing, in which case I need to go find him. Either way… We're headed for Kiev today."

Steve inclined his head. "Fair enough. Why don't we go for a run? I'll show you around the palace grounds. It's pretty at sunrise… and then we'll grab a shower and some breakfast and be on our way. You should have heard from him by then anyway."

Her mouth quirked into a half smile. She had to admit that after their rather dour conversation, she was somewhat relieved that he was finding a way to distract both of them. "Sounds good." she replied. "Let me get changed."

***


	7. For in This House Dwell Sin and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha was a little longer than Steve getting out of the bathroom. Wringing her hair out took forever in the heavy humidity, but if she didn't take the time to do it now, her hair would be wet all day. When she emerged, towel still in hand, she paused in the doorway and frowned like a thundercloud at what she saw.
> 
> Steve was standing beside his bed with the armored jacket of his tac suit in hand. He had pulled a small utility knife from somewhere and was cutting the last of the stitching that affixed the white star to the front of the chest piece.
> 
> "What are you doing?" she asked, the words coming out syrup-slow.
> 
> He didn't answer right away. The last stitch came free and he tossed the jacket onto the bed beside the rest of his gear. Steve held the star in his hand, thumbing the freshly frayed edge as he closed the knife and tucked it away in his pocket. He hadn't answered her, but she was sure he had heard her, so she tried again. Just his name this time. That always seemed to be the better question.
> 
> "Steve?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy *Saturday* everyone!
> 
> So... good news, bad news.
> 
> Good news: This week's update is early! *yaaaaaay!*  
> Bad news: Next week's update is possibly going to be late. *boooo...*
> 
> Long story short, it's tech week for me at the ballet company where I stage manage, so I'm about to drop off the face of the earth for a bit. But! Please note that the fic is finished. It's being edited by the lovely KaminaDuck as we speak. So I shouldn't leave you hanging longer than a day or so. Hopefully, I will get it out on time.
> 
> Speaking of... Many thanks to KaminaDuck for the beta-reading and editing. Particularly for the computery bits in this chapter. Seriously... he's chewing through so much of my stuff right now. This fic, a Loki/Darcy fic that's about 15k and due out beginning of next month... it's insane. If you feel so inclined, give him a follow over on Tumblr or on Twitch (same handle). 
> 
> Also, many many thanks to the darling @iaintnosidekick for the LOVELY mood board they made for this fic. It's in the chapter below. Please go check out their Tumblr as well... they have so much amazing stuff. Thank you so much, sweetheart! I can't tell you how much that gift made my life.
> 
> And lastly, thank YOU all for reading! For the kudos, the comments, the Tumblr messages... I'm always so excited to hear from you guys.
> 
> Enjoy this week's chapter and I'll see you soon!

" " 

* * *

***

_Go back, my babe, to the vacant night_  
_For in this house dwell sin and hate_  
_On the verge of being._

***

Natasha was a little longer than Steve getting out of the bathroom. Wringing her hair out took forever in the heavy humidity, but if she didn't take the time to do it now, her hair would be wet all day. When she emerged, towel still in hand, she paused in the doorway and frowned like a thundercloud at what she saw.

Steve was standing beside his bed with the armored jacket of his tac suit in hand. He had pulled a small utility knife from somewhere and was cutting the last of the stitching that affixed the white star to the front of the chest piece.

"What are you doing?" she asked, the words coming out syrup-slow.

He didn't answer right away. The last stitch came free and he tossed the jacket onto the bed beside the rest of his gear. Steve held the star in his hand, thumbing the freshly frayed edge as he closed the knife and tucked it away in his pocket. He hadn't answered her, but she was sure he had heard her, so she tried again. Just his name this time. That always seemed to be the better question.

"Steve?"

"This used to be a symbol." he said, his voice soft. Almost as if he were only talking to himself. "My symbol."

"It still is." Natasha replied, her voice guarded and careful. "Everyone sees that shield with the star and thinks of you. Thinks that help has arrived."

Steve just shook his head, rubbing the star between his fingers. "I don't have that shield anymore, Nat. I gave it up. Tony said I didn't deserve it and… maybe in that moment, he was right."

"There's a long list of shit Tony Stark is wrong about-"

"And that's not on that list." Steve cut her a sharp look causing her teeth to click closed. She knew that tone. There was no arguing with it, so she had to let it stand. At least for now.

Steve looked back down as the scrap in his hand. "At least because I think he's right. Maybe he won't always be right. But the mantle of "Captain America" isn't for me. Not right now. Not while I'm dealing with this stuff with Bucky, and trying to find a way to live in this world with the Accords in play. This star? It's about honor, and justice, and standing and fighting for what's right. How can I say I stand for justice when I'm actively scorning written law? When I turned my back on one friend to help another? That doesn't sound like "help has arrived" to me."

Natasha opened her mouth to argue, but she saw the set of Steve's jaw. The square of his shoulders. The deed was already done. His mind was made up. He was just letting her know at this point.

So she pivoted. Easy as anything. It was always this easy with him. Just an acquiescing lift of her shoulders in a soft shrug. She could follow him anywhere, and she would follow him now. Questions like this were definitely above her pay grade, anyway. She'd never had to really ask or answer them save for herself. And even that was still a nebulous struggle. Probably would always be. That was just the new normal.

But his truths? She needed only to believe. Pivot and follow. 

And she truly believed he was right, at least in part. She'd have challenged if she didn't. But in this case...

"There's an answer to that question, I'm sure." Steve went on, looking back to the frayed bit of fabric in his hand. "And I'll think about it once I'm done saving my best friend, because that is what is important right now."

"Yeah…" Natasha said rather distantly. "Yeah, okay."

"Here." He held the star out to her, the material hanging limply from two fingers.

She blinked twice and just stared at him dumbly, as if he were offering her the fingerbone of a saint.

"Here, take it." Steve encouraged waving it at her a little, and making it flutter like a tiny flag. "It's… it's like you said. I may not have wandered far. But it's far enough. So until I find my way back, or even… maybe once I find where "back" is supposed to be, hold onto this for me."

Natasha reached out her hand, clasping the star between their palms. He'd expected her to take it, but instead she grasped his hand too, pulling him into her embrace. He came easily though. Arm around her. Nose in her hair. He moved into her as easily as she could follow him.

"Okay." she whispered into the canvas of his uniform. She gripped his hand tight before letting the star slip into her fingers, crumpling it against her chest. "I'll keep it safe."

She didn't mean the star. She knew it. He knew it. But words couldn't bear a promise like that. They'd warp and buckle. Knowing was the only way to carry a promise like that.

"Thanks, Nat." Steve said, pulling back to smile down at her. "I can always count on you."

"Couldn't always." she said with a self-deprecating smile.

Steve pursed his lips and shook his head. "Yes, I could. I just didn't know it." His arms cinched around her tight, prompting her to rise on tiptoe to press a kiss against his lips, back bowing in his grip. 

"You heard back from your contact?" he asked, breaking the kiss briefly only to dive for her lips again when the question was asked.

"Not before our shower." she said, nosing at his freshly trimmed beard before disentangling herself and going to fetch her laptop. As she walked she slipped the star into the cup of her bra to keep it close until she changed into her tac suit. Seemed right that it should live there for the time being. As close to her heart as she could get it. Just like the phone.

She flipped the laptop open and hit a few keys. A window popped up with a few lines of text and she shot Steve a satisfied smile. "I got an answer."

"So we are headed to Kiev?"

"We are indeed. He says he's got something for us." she confirmed, her face cracking that crisp, tactical smile Steve always loved to see on mission. "Let's get dressed and then see about borrowing one of those fancy QuinJets."

"Long as you don't put your feet on the dash." Steve replied with a wink that tugged gently at the anxious knots in Natasha's stomach.

Star or no star, he was still Steve. He was this before the serum. Before HYDRA. Before everything. He was this now. And she needed only follow.

And, in spite of her history… with the KGB, and SHIELD, and HYDRA… there was strange comfort in that.

***

When they were somewhere over the churning waters of the Black Sea, Natasha turned to where Steve sat in the co-pilot's chair and in a strangely halting voice asked, "Does… does it bother you that I have history with Ba-... with Bucky?"

Steve blinked at the question, but barely raised an eyebrow. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. "Only thing that bothers me about it is that he remembers, you don’t, and he won't tell me anything about what he knows."

"So you asked him about me?"

"He asked about you, actually. So I just sort of followed on."

"Huh." she huffed. "What did you tell him?"

"The truth." he cut her a sidelong smirk.

She gave him a mildly withering glare. "Do I need to give you the "all things to all people" speech again? Or are you good? Because I do think it applies here."

"You still believe that, huh?"

"It's yet to be disproven."

Steve inclined his head, smirk still firmly in place. "I told him you were very self-contained when we first met, and I'm aware what an understatement that is. I also told him you've gotten less so towards me in the time we've known each other. I told him you have a very balanced view of the world. You can be skeptical and compassionate. You're able to look at lots of options without investing in any of them."

"Sometimes." she shrugged.

"More so than me."

"That's fair." she replied. "Did you ask him about what he knew? About me?"

Steve licked his lips thoughtfully. "I did. And he didn't give me much of an answer. Just… assured me that you don't have anything to fear from anything he has to tell you, and I'm pretty sure the only reason he even said that much was because he knew I would tell you. But the rest… well, it's like he told me when I pushed him. It was the Red Room after all. And I've… I've never asked you about the Red Room, and I'm not ever going to, but I… get a sense of what he meant."

"You didn't push after that? To find out what he knew at least?" she asked. "You had to be curious."

"Painfully so." he answered. "But… I am getting in the habit of measuring my asking carefully. I did ask and he said that business was yours. But as to my curiosity?" he shrugged again, turning to give her that prize-winning Captain-America-Believes-in-You smile. "Your past doesn’t have to define you. You can always choose to be someone different. You’re an excellent example of that."

She blushed a little, shaking her head. “Well, that’s a lot of your influence, truth be told.”

"To be fair, you've changed me too."

"That's how friendship works," she said swiveling in her chair and staring out over the slate gray water. "Or so I'm told."

That made Steve smile. Even laugh a little.

"I had noticed you never asked about the Red Room." she said, looking over at him out of the corner of her eye as she busied herself checking their engine status and altitude. "I'd mention it but you'd never push."

Another lift of his shoulders. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen. And if you never want to talk about it, that's okay too.”

She nodded and sighed, eyes once again scanning the gray line between the sea and sky. “That’s… part of the reason I wanted to come back and help with Bucky. I'd come back just to help you, and you know that but... I… I want to undo this for myself too. Whatever it is. If there's a way to.”

Steve nodded, his jaw clenching around the admission. “I figured as much.” he settled on saying.

Natasha sat back in the chair, worrying at her thumbnail with her front teeth. "The Winter Soldier was torn apart to be made into what he is. All the Assets like him were. They were brought in as adults, already trained and field tested. All with lives that they left behind with varying levels of willingness. They were mangled into shape with trauma and trigger phrases. But the Red Room agents… we started as children. Sometimes as young as six. Most of us barely remembered anything before the Red Room. It was our whole world until we finished our training. The touch was softer with us. We were molded gently over a longer period. Subliminal messaging and outright propaganda, depending on the message. A constant background radiation of competition and paranoia. We were children… smoothed slowly like stones in a trickling river bed. There were no memories to subvert because it all seemed so normal. I didn't think they did to us what they did to him… at least I didn't before he recognized me, I don't think." 

Natasha paused and shook her head. "When he had his metal hand around my throat all I could think about was how angry it made me that they let him forget all the awful things he'd done. Or so I thought. "You could at least recognize me." That's what I said to him. He was choking the life out of me and that's all I cared about."

Steve took a slow breath as he digested the admission. "He remembers you now." he said with a shrug.

"But I don't remember him. Not from before. And… I want to. Whatever that memory is, I want it. And all the rest, if there are more."

"Are you afraid of it?"

"Oh, I'm terrified. Wouldn't you be?" she asked, making him give a wobbling nod of reluctant agreement. "There is no telling what… what might be uncovered. But… he's not afraid. He didn't draw back from me the way I did from him initially." She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I want it back. It could be big. It could be small. But anything they have, I want it back."

Steve looked over at her, giving a fierce nod as his blue eyes flashed in the sun. "We'll figure this stuff out for the both of you. You're both owed that. And so much more."

Natasha reached across the cockpit to take Steve's gloved hand. "I've got everything I could want."

***

Steve had expected many things of one of Natasha Romanoff's contacts. Especially after the long, complicated process of securing the meeting location and confirming identities. Three separate keys, a fingerprint scanner, conversations and messages left with two different burner phones, and at least half a dozen coded exchanges in half as many languages. It took the better part of two hours, winding through back alleys, hidden basements, and shady looking shops with bars on the windows and "clerks" with knives in their eyes. He felt woefully bereft without his armored tac suit, especially when one location was guarded by a keg of a man with an assault rifle leaned against the doorjamb in plain sight. It was like being on the run in DC all over again. 

_Walk don't run. Hands in your pockets, and trail just over Romanoff's shoulder. She knows what she's doing._ He coached himself. At least his shoes fit better this time. He'd insisted on it.

By the end of the whole song and dance, Steve was expecting to meet someone that looked like that Russian boxer from one of those Rocky movies… he couldn't remember which one. Sam had made him binge them all in an afternoon so they all ran together. Or maybe the male name was a cover for another former Red Room assassin… all legs and jet black hair and keen, clockwork eyes just like Natasha's.

But he hadn't expected Grigory Fedoseyev to be a dumpy little penguin of a man in an ill-fitting suit. With Coke-bottle glasses and a bushy mustache and a gap-toothed smile from ear to ear. He honestly reminded Steve a little of Bruce Banner with his mousy demeanor and hunched shoulders.

Grigory and Natasha exchanged complicated salutations in Russian before Grigory turned to Steve. "Captain America." he greeted, eyes sparkling behind his heavy horn-rimmed glasses. His accent hung on his words like ivy. "It is a pleasure, sir. Truly."

"Steve Rogers, please." Steve insisted, trying to school a bewildered smile into a friendly one.

"You are still chasing Sergeant Barnes, yes?"

"No, I have him." Steve said, after checking with Natasha to be sure he wasn't oversharing. She'd given a gentle lift of her chin in affirmation, much to his relief. He was still a terrible liar and he knew it. Better to just not talk rather than try to lie.

"What we need now are the protocols they used to program him." Natasha filled in.

"Ah, because the programming is still intact?"

"Unfortunately." Steve answered. "And without knowing what they did, we can't undo it."

"Well… I am sad to say that I do not have the information you are looking for." Grigory said with a slow twist of his head. 

"You said you have the file." Natasha frowned.

"I do, but look." Grigory produced a laptop, an ancient and sturdy model like Natasha's, and flipped it open to reveal a file occluded almost entirely with black redaction bars. "It is a wonder that HYDRA did not destroy it outright. But even still, I do not think this will be of much help."

"That's… disheartening." Natasha said, sitting back with a huff.

"But the trail does not end here." Grigory spun the laptop back towards himself, stubby fingers dancing over the keys. "I do not have the information, but this file does have a point of origin. Here, see?" He flipped the screen back around and showed them a window with the file's information. And sure enough, there were longitude and latitude coordinates. "File originated from here. Is a possibility that it is still stored there. If the building still exists, or if we can find out what it is or used to be, that is next step on the trail."

Natasha's eyes narrowed by a precise fraction. "Excellent. Thank you, Grigory. Send those coordinates to the usual address, and we'll be on our way." She stood swiftly, her words clipped and precise.

"Wait," Steve sat forward in his chair. "Grigory, do you know what this place is?"

He shrugged his shoulders, the motion muted by his ill-fitting suit jacket. "The location is remote but I've found no other records besides this one. Likely a KGB secret location. Weapons… research… with this many black lines," he gestured to the screen. "There is probably not much telling without going there, or doing air reconnaissance."

A ghost of a frown flickered over Steve's brow as he watched Natasha swiftly gather her things, but he returned his attention to Grigory who seemed nonplussed by Natasha's sudden curtness. "Thank you for this information."

"It is my pleasure Cap- Mr. Rogers." he answered, cordially extending his hand and Steve clasped it.

Grigory was stronger than he looked.

Steve made to follow Natasha's brisk exit but paused at the door, a frown cutting across his brow. A loose end flitted across his mind and he turned back.

"If I can ask… what did she promise you so you'd stick your neck out for us?"

"Oh nothing, sir. Natalia and I… we have been helping each other for a long time." he replied, slipping his laptop into his bag. "I understand how that might seem… out of the normal order of things. But… Your friend. Sergeant Barnes. As the Winter Soldier, he was responsible for the death of my brother."

Steve's frown deepened as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Doesn't seem like you should be wanting to help him."

"I wouldn't want to help the Winter Soldier, no." Grigory said standing and running a hand through his thinning hair. "But having fewer of them in the world? Killing brothers and spouses and children because they happen to be problematic for someone in power? That is something I want very much. Especially if your… method is applicable for Barnes. But I do not seek vengeance."

Steve nodded. "Thank you, Grigory. If there's ever anything I can do…"

"Likewise, Captain." There was a glint in the disheveled man's eye that hinted the use of the title wasn't a slip up.

Steve smiled, giving a small nod of acknowledgement before he followed Natasha out of the apartment building to where she waited on the street. They walked in silence all the way to the abandoned lot where they'd stashed their cloaked jet. Once inside, Natasha practically threw herself into the pilot's chair and immediately began firing up the jet.

No words. Just action.

Steve, with one eye now closely watching Natasha, settled a little more slowly into the co-pilot seat and entered the coordinates from Grigory into the nav console. "Huh…" he huffed, staring at the map on the screen. He flipped through several filters, frown deepening with each one. "The coordinates are in an old Soviet no-fly zone. But there's nothing here on the satellite feed… just… I see a razed foundation, if I had to guess? It's just a slab in the middle of a clearing. But other than that, it's just trees for mi- Natasha, what is it?"

She'd gone preternaturally still next to him. Eyes staring out at nothing. Not looking at the console, or the map. Just straight out the front of the jet. Her breathing had gone whisper shallow and her face paler than death.

"Nat…?" the nickname was a question, careful and gentle.

"It's the Red Room." she said, her low voice barely audible over the jets. "Or… it used to be."

Steve blinked twice and looked back down at the map. "I… are you sure?"

She glanced briefly at the console and then looked away again. "Yes."

Steve sat back, passing one hand over his face. "That's… not what I was expecting." he said, staring at the screen. "I didn't think the Red Room was tangled up in HYDRA business."

She forced herself into motion again as she spoke, her voice flat and emotionless. "I'm pretty sure there's a lot we both don't know about the Red Room at this point." she replied, her hands flying over the controls as she mechanically put them through the pre-flight checks.

He stared at Natasha who looked a hair's breadth from dissolving into shivers unless she kept her mind on the task at hand. "If you want to stay in Kiev or go back to Wakan-"

"No." came the answer.

"Nat, you were already worried about finding out things about your past that you-"

"I'm coming with you." her voice was stronger. And the edge that cut off his words was a little sharper.

Steve sucked in a breath to argue further but stopped himself, letting the air hiss out through his nose. "Are you sure?" he settled on asking.

She turned and fixed him with a freezing, iron-hard stare. "Steve, now I have to know. They did something to me. More… maybe worse than what I already know about. Furthermore, _HYDRA_ did something to me, possibly. And if that's true I really need to know. And I'm not going to keep Bucky waiting or let you walk into God knows what by yourself because I'm fucking scared to know the truth." 

Steve nodded twice and reached across the aisle to grab one of her hands, fixing her with an earnest look. "Okay. Okay, Nat. I'm not going in there alone. And neither are you." He assured her with a tight squeeze of her fingers before he turned back to his console and finished confirming the nav coordinates. "Get us in the air."

"Okay. Okay." Natasha said, panting the words out in an effort to slow her breathing.

***

The QuinJet touched down just inside the clearing surrounding the bare slab of concrete marking the assumed grave of the infamous Red Room. They had circled first, scanning for hidden turrets, life signs, and other such hazards, but having found none, they landed just off the foundation. Steve stepped out of the jet first, with Natasha close on his heels. Despite the brilliant sun overhead, her eyes were hooded and glacial as she stared out at the familiar clearing.

Steve felt the suggestion to turn back perched on the tip of his tongue again. She didn't have to do this. She _shouldn't_ have to do this. But he knew she wouldn't hear it, and at this point it would be insulting, so onward they went, up the stairs of the foundation. 

"Comms sync on my mark." he said, voice flat with routine.

"Standing." came the rote response. They both had their hands on their earpieces, eyes locked together.

"Mark."

"Comm check?"

"Check is good."

"Likewise. This way." She pointed and started up the stairs to the flat of the foundation.

"The entry hall was here." Natasha said, scuffing her boot over a clean white line on the surface of the concrete. The rest of the foundation was smudged and dirty, but a wall must've stood there long after the rest of the house was stripped. "The manor was three stories tall with a long staircase here that went all the way to the top. The furniture was old… pre-revolution for sure. All the outside walls had tall windows and brass lamps lit the inside. It was really beautiful. A little like living in a museum. There was art and sculpture… all Russian of course. Glory to the Motherland and all that." She turned in place, eyes focused as if the walls bedecked with paintings were still around her.

Steve trailed after her, watching as she lost herself in the recollection. In his mind's eye, the old manor house slowly reformed in accordance with her words. Gleaming handrails, rich colors, flickering lamps...

"We… we walked through here every day. To get anywhere in the rest of the house, you had to pass through the main entry hall. The dining room was this way." she pointed and crossed a few feet. "We ate at a long table, side by side. It was the only time we ever saw the Matron when we were first brought here. When you were young and new, it was nice. Family style dinners full of traditional Russian food. A lot of the girls were from poor families and were delighted to have enough to eat. We thought it was nice. Plenty of food and polite conversation." she paused, woefully shaking her head. "But when you got older… as you moved down the table towards where the Matron sat, you learned to watch your fellows. Learned to spot a bulging pocket or a tilted hemline. Learned to palm a butter knife from the table without it catching the lamp light. Because you never knew if your roommate was going to be stealing one as well and sharpening it when you weren't looking."

"That what happened to your roommate?"

"Not a knife from the dinner table. I had managed to steal a utility knife from the shed out back. Better. More useful. I could pick the lock on my handcuffs with it." 

"How-" Steve stopped himself, teeth biting down on the inquery.

But Natasha was ahead of him, already answering the morbid question.

"I was ten when she came after me." she replied. "I didn't kill except in self defense."

"Admirable. In a place like that."

"Not really." she said shaking her head. "I knew they would all come for me eventually, especially the more hot headed ones, so I waited for them. I made sure I was better armed and learned to be a light sleeper. Back to the wall… remember?"

Steve nodded, eyes finding the tops of his boots. _Jesus, how young…_ "I'm sorry, Natasha. I didn't want to pry into this if you weren't ready."

She turned and gave him a heartbreaking smile. "Who else am I going to tell this stuff to, Steve?"

"Did you never to Clint? To Phil? Fury?"

"Some of it." she replied, lifting one shoulder. "They were there for my SHIELD debriefing. And they knew about the Red Room from the files. But…"

"You never told them you killed your roommate with a utility knife when she came for you with a knife from the dinner table." he finished for her.

She shook her head, scuffing her boot over the surface of the concrete again. The grating sound was stark in the breezeless quiet of the clearing. 

"We should get on with it." she said finally, squaring her shoulders and looking out at the treeline. "What I remember about this place isn't why we're here."

"Well…" Steve put his hands on his hips and looked around, turning in a slow circle. "I'm hoping this place had a basement. Because otherwise this is another dead end."

When he looked back, Natasha was flat on the ground, ear to the cement. Her eyes were open but her breath was held. Then she was on her feet again in a flash, bounding down the steps two at a time. "Once when I was out on the roof, I saw two Red Room operatives come and go by way of a hidden door in the foundation. Or at least that's what it had to be. I couldn't see from my position without giving myself away. I think that'll be our best bet."

Steve followed her around the side of the foundation to where it rose more than head high above them. Natasha was probing the featureless concrete with her fingers before pressing her ear to the surface and listening again.

"It's hollow back there." she told him. "I can hear an air current. I've just got to figure out… My kingdom for your shield to just bash through this concrete. Did you really have to drop it?"

Steve shrugged, laughing a little at the absurdity. "I'll get Shuri to make me a new one."

After a moment, her fingers caught in a crevice and there was a loud hiss followed by a dull scraping sound as the concrete slid back to reveal a narrow passageway. Stale air blew in their faces carrying decades of dust with it, making both of them cough hoarsely.

Natasha pulled her flashlight and descended the stairs first, blinking in the stuffy, dust-filled air. The passage was cramped, and the ceiling was so low that Steve had to duck slightly to avoid banging his head until they were down the steps. Every few feet, dull incandescent bulbs encased in old Soviet-era metal cages sprang to life, but their weak illumination only seemed to deepen the shadows. Ahead of them, they could hear a steady thrumming hum. It vibrated the air around them and grew louder the farther they eased down the hallway. 

Finally, they stepped through a doorway at the end of the concrete hall, and the lights within flickered sluggishly. One by one, they rippled on, their pallid fluorescent light piercing the dust fogged air. It was clear this room was newer than the passage behind them, or at least it had been renovated more recently. The ceiling was low. The walls had been painted white, though it had long since begun to chip and peel. And the room itself appeared to be much bigger than the Red Room's foundation. In fact, they might've actually passed out from under it entirely. 

And everywhere were rows and rows of shoulder high metal boxes painted a drab green, all of them humming steadily. Some housed visible tape reels. Others contained giant spindles, big as vinyl records. All neat little files of squares… like a military graveyard...

Steve frowned. He'd seen this before. He'd…

_Wait._

"Oh no." Natasha breathed.

She had recognized it too and they both stared at each other dumbfounded. The seizing, clawing haze of adrenaline that had clouded her return to the Red Room had prevented her from realizing it at first. Rank on rank of whirring, clicking monoliths… 

Computer databases. Ancient ones. Rows of them, stretching out beyond counting. Certainly out beyond sight.

And a console in the middle with a blank screen and keyboard.

Natasha blinked dully.

_Oh shit._

More lights flickered to life, flattening the shadows into the corners. The whirring grew louder. 

Click.

Click.  
Click.

Click  
Click  
Click  
Click

_Click._

The screen sprang to life. It gave no prompt like Zola's had. Instead, it just began scrolling line after line of incomprehensible characters in bright acid green pixels.

Natasha looked away but Steve stepped closer.

"No…" he breathed. 

"Natalia." a distorted, mechanical voice crooned. And Natasha's head snapped to again, making eye contact with the synthetic suggestion of a face that had formed on the screen. "You've returned. And what's this? Have you brought me a gift?"

"Natasha?" Steve turned to her.

She was shaking her head slowly, rooting her feet to the floor even though she couldn't keep her weight from shifting backwards. _Run run run,_ her brain screamed, but she knew she'd never make the door... There were probably-

Steve swiveled his head back around. "Who are you? You're not Arnim Zola." he snapped. "Who are you?"

"Hah! You thought Arnim was the only one to preserve himself in such a way?" There was a melodic ring of artificial laughter. "Hardly. I am the Matron of the Red Room, and that is the only name you will need for this conversation. It was determined that even as I aged, the Red Room would still need my guidance. My iron fist if it was to-"

 _RUN RUN RUN,_ Natasha's brain was on loop, and now she braced one foot behind herself. She would yell for Steve to follow her if she could unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. But she couldn't stay here a minute longer. Not with the Matron's metallic voice eating into her brain again. There were things she didn't know. Things that might've been done to her. If Bucky could be turned with just the right jumble of words then-

_She had to get out of here._

The face on the screen flickered as if it had seen the motion, and there was a loud pop. Sharp and quick like a static shock. No light. Nothing but a hollow snap, and Natasha fell to the ground in a boneless heap. 

Another titter of tinny laughter came from the Matron as Steve dove for Natasha's limp form.

"Nat? Natasha, open your eyes." He implored, smoothing her hair back from her face.

"She'll not wake, Captain." the computer taunted. 

That made Steve clutch her all the closer. She was breathing. He could hear it. But only shallowly through parted lips. But she was alive. And there didn't seem to be a scratch on her. 

He rounded on the glowing screen, still in a crouch over her body. "What did you do to her?"

The Matron seemed to ignore his question entirely. "To think I nearly dismissed those sycophantic relics out of hand. They showed up on my doorstep peddling some lunacy about the full submission of the human race. Purification and sacrifice and so on and so forth. I thought at first they sought our aid, which we never gave freely. Not to anyone. But then they showed me something. Or someone rather. A man, who was more than half machine. They had broken him into little more than a savage dog that could do tricks on command. Sit. Stand. Kill a man. Put the gun to his own head. Disassemble the gun and sit down again. All by electrical impulse. It was remarkable. He had weaknesses my girls did not, but then… the reverse could be said about my agents. That is when I realized that they didn't seek my aid, but were giving me theirs. Sharpening my weapons so that-"

Steve blinked, deja vu washing over him again. This was playing out exactly like Zola. Rambling exposition about the how and where... And Zola had monologued them into nearly being taken out by an airstrike. Steve had barely acted in time, and even then only luck had saved them.

Steve frantically looked around. If he was going to make it out of here with both Natasha and the database, he needed to work fast. He dove for the control panel, fingers moving clumsily over the keys in his haste. He searched for the file by name, finding it but also finding it heavily encrypted. But it was here. It was in the box by his feet. He just...

"Well, well Captain. It seems that you are caught in a predicament. Will you save your friend or steal the data. Because you won't have time for both. Which life will you choose I wonder? Will you-"

 _Ah yes, there it was._ He redoubled his efforts, trying to bypass the security. If he could just move it, maybe-

The screen flashed up a message with a blinking prompt. A password. Of course it demanded a password. There were probably biometrics in place too, and with Natasha out of commission, there would be no way to bypass them.

He glanced down at the box, whirring softly at his feet. Such a small thing to hold the fate of human lives…

Fuck it.

He curled his fingers around the case's front panel and pulled, screws popping free to reveal the twisted inner workings of the computer. Natasha had taught him how to recognize hard drives but not how to disconnect them. What if he pulled the wrong wire and it was set to erase itself somehow. He should just grab Natasha and-

No… they were going to do this his way. No more trading. No more sacrificing. 

With a mighty jerk he tore the whole computer case free from the wall, hoisting it over one shoulder as he jogged to where Natasha had collapsed. He pulled her limp form up over his other shoulder, and sprinted for the exit.

The Matron's voice laughed up from behind him. "You see, Captain Rogers. One of the tenants of both the Red Room and HYDRA is this. Sacrifices must be made. For the glory of Mother Russia. For the glory of the human race. Sacrifice. One life for many."

"Not anymore." he grunted, hefting both the computer and his friend over his broad shoulders and hauling ass up the stairs, the soft, repeating boom of a chain of charges exploding chasing after him.

***


	8. I Will Not Go Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no cold quite like the cold of a Russian winter. Especially at night when there was no wind and the snow fell in thick, blanketing flakes fatter than a thumbnail. It was a pervasive cold. Intrusive and penetrating, sneaking in through the cracks of window panes and seeping through even the warmest clothes. But there was something about the numbness that followed the initial stabbing surprise of the chill that Natalia found comforting. Even when she was in barely more than her flannel nightgown.
> 
> In the cold of a Russian winter, everything was still. The trees. The sky. Even Natalia herself. Everything was static but the gently falling snow. It was as if the world itself were caught by it... Ensnared in its trap and thinking that being still might spare it a worse fate. The forest and the eaves of the manor house looked like a Christmas night in one of those American cartoons the instructors let them watch when they'd done well at training. Everything frozen in a perfect picture, but for the hazy, lazy drift of snowflakes. 
> 
> Natalia would count the them as they melted on her gloved palm.
> 
> One… two… three… four…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all!
> 
> Hey look! I made it on time! Thank you all for your patience over these last few weeks. I shouldn't have any more issues with the last two chapters. It's just... well tech week is tech week. :)
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for his faithful beta reading! I couldn't do this without you.
> 
> Also thank you to @iaintnosidekick for the fabulous moodboard! You are the absolute best ever.
> 
> And thank you to all my faithful readers! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's probably my favorite part of the whole series so far.
> 
> Much love and I'll see you next week!

" " 

* * *

***

_I will not go back for hate or sin,_   
_I will not go back for sorrow or pain,_

***

Steve hit the landing platform at a dead sprint, mangled computer case in one hand and Natasha's still unconscious body pulled tight against his side. He was met by what must've been the entirety of Shuri's lab staff as well as the princess herself, followed closely by her brother.

"Let her through! Let her through!" T'Challa shouted from the back for her well-meaning assistants to clear a path.

Shuri went to Natasha first, getting a shoulder under her as well in order to examine her more closely. "Get a stretcher! Someone come get this computer from him and set it up in the lab. Move!" She shouted, her voice cracking like a whip before she turned to speak to Steve, her tone suddenly turning on a dime. "What happened?" She asked gently as two assistants sprinted off ahead of them. Two more took the computer from Steve and ran full pelt after their colleagues.

"Some kind of electrical impulse triggered at the site where we found the computer." He answered as they fell into step together with T'Challa close on their heels listening to every word. With his other hand now free, he hoisted Natasha's limp body into both arms as though she weighed nothing. "Our investigation lead us to believe she might have similar mental… programming to Bucky's. Made her susceptible to an attack like this? Might've been a failsafe or something similar." 

"That's unfortunate." Shuri said rather dourly as she tipped Natasha's head back and rolled one of her eyelids open.

"Can you… fix her?" Steve asked, shadows too dark for words bleeding across his tone as the weight of their predicament began to fall down around his head. _He should have sent her back to Wakanda. He shouldn't have let her insist that-_

But Shuri was Shuri, and she looked up at him with a reassuring smile. "Of course." she crowed, popping him in the arm with the back of her hand and making T'Challa snort with laughter in spite of himself. "I may be fifteen, but I fix a mean White Russian." she gave him a smart little wink. "See what I did there?"

It was her exuberant confidence that made Steve smile more than the joke, but he couldn't deny that the terrible pun helped. 

They were halfway to the palace when they were met by the assistants carrying the stretcher. The procession barely broke stride as Steve laid Natasha down to be carted ahead of them. Steve doubled his pace to keep up, with Shuri and T'Challa in hot pursuit.

The lab was a flurry of activity when they arrived, but the bustle swelled even further once Shuri stepped inside and began snapping out orders. 

"Get Ms. Romanoff into cryo and assess her. Set the neural array in Sergeant Barnes's chamber. We are waking him up first. And get that data downloaded to our systems as quickly as possible."

"Already on it." One of her assistants called from behind a bank of monitors. "It's encrypted, and we're running decryption now."

"How long?" She barked back, as she set to work on a monitoring screen beside the empty cryo chamber.

"Twenty minutes. Thirty at most." came the answer. 

"Excellent. Don't rush. No shortcuts." She wagged a finger in the general direction of the technician without looking up from her own screen. "That data's irreplaceable. We aren't waking either of these two up without it so if it's destroyed, we will be up shit creek."

"Shuri, language!" T'Challa chided.

"This is my lab, brother." she bit back with a smirk. She poked him in the chest with her stylus before stashing it in the knot of braids atop her head. "And you are not king yet." 

T'Challa laughed again before glancing over at Steve who had cracked a small smile at the exchange. But his blue eyes were hard as they flicked back and forth between Natasha as she was loaded into the stasis pod and Bucky who still slumbered peacefully in his rimed chamber. They would be a matching pair, at least for a now. Side by side, locked in ice.

"Your friends are in the best hands possible." T'Challa said, clasping one hand around Steve's elbow when his smile faded.

"I know." he replied, giving a shake of his head. "You'd think I'd be used to this now… there always comes a time where you can't fight your way out of something. I keep hoping I will eventually feel some kind of peace about it, but I always just feel useless."

"You got them both this far. Both would likely be dead without you. You shielded them both… got them to safety when they had no one else. I do not discount my baby sister's work, but the brave one here is you. Do not doubt that. You put your reputation… your name on the line for them."

Steve shook his head. "No. There's no reputation at stake in this. This is just who I am now. It may be who I've always been." he answered in a tone that brooked no argument.

T'Challa just gave a thoughtful nod.

At any rate, Shuri's approach prevented the conversation from going further, but Steve gave T'Challa an appreciative smile all the same. He was going to be a great king one day. One day very soon…

"They're both stable. Natasha appears to simply be unconscious. She might've woken up on her own in time, but if we are to assess her, it's best to keep her on ice." Shuri said, flicking through data on her tablet. "The hard drive is decrypting and I should be ready to proceed on Sergeant Barnes in half an hour or so."

"How long til he's awake?" Steve nodded towards Bucky's chamber.

"An hour at most." she replied, cutting her eyes briefly to her brother. "Feel free to stay here. I certainly won't kick you out, but it's not likely to be terribly exciting. Lots of staring at screens waiting on things to load and compile, while we are monitoring both their vitals."

"Come." T'Challa took his cue and tugged at his elbow. "You should change and eat something. They are in good hands."

Again, Steve's eyes darted between his friends reclining in their icy chambers. He almost refused. Almost stayed in his uniform to pace the edges of the lab like a restless animal. It would be pointless and only serve to stoke the anxious churning in his mind. But by the same measure, it seemed a betrayal to leave them just to put on clean clothes and satisfy his stomach, which he couldn't deny had growled at the mention of food.

Shuri's gaze caught his and she smiled, taking one of his hands in hers. Her hands were tiny, especially wrapped around his, but he could feel that there was a strength in those fine bones when they contracted around Steve's fingers. "I won't wake either of them without you here." she promised, giving his hand a shake. "In fact, I won't wake either of them until you leave and come back in something other than a filthy tac suit and with a belly full of food." she cut a meaningful look at her brother which was met with a nod.

Steve found himself mirroring her smile and studying the tops of his boots. "Thank you, Shuri."

"Oh, you think this is for you? I'm not a fool. I'm having mercy on Sergeant Barnes and making you take a shower before you're both all up in each other's business." she waved him off. "Go on. And don't forget to brush your teeth."

He actually laughed at that. A pitiful, strangled, and startled sound, but it was a laugh, and that was no small victory. "Thanks, Shuri."

"My pleasure. Now shoo! Both of you. Let me work." she nodded to her brother again who threw an arm around Steve and saw them both out.

Steve couldn't deny that food and a shower had been a capital idea. He felt better. More steady and sound than he had in days. Though it was Shuri's assurances and T'Challa's wise words that had kept him grounded during what seemed to be the longest hour of his entire life. And kept him patiently in his room, actually resting on the bed, reading random news articles instead of pacing endlessly in circles until Shuri arrived. He could be distracted. He could be calm and wait.

Patience. He was getting better at that. 

Patience. He could wait until Shuri arrived. It wouldn't be that long. The lines at the army recruitment office in the 40s had been longer.

_Patience._

And Shuri did arrive, precisely an hour later on the dot.

"We're ready." she said from the door when it swung open, her voice soft and a curl of a smile on her lips.

Steve was out of bed and following her in an instant. The lab was much as he had left it, but significantly calmer. Both Natasha and Bucky were still frozen solid, but more attendants swarmed around Bucky's chamber now than when they'd arrived earlier. 

"Will you begin the… the treatment when he wakes up?" Steve asked.

"Oh, it's done." Shuri replied primly with a distracted wave of her hand. She didn't even look up from her tablet.

Steve's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth for a moment. "Done?" he finally managed.

"Done." She turned a blazing bright smile on him. "It needed to be done while he was still out. Electrical stimulation of the brain is not something you want to be awake for. Though according to the files from Kiev, HYDRA was not nearly so kind."

Steve's mouth thinned at that as he willed himself not to think about it. "But it's done then?"

"We will have some testing to do once he wakes up. Just to be absolutely sure. So we all have peace of mind, including him." she admitted, her smile fading just a little. "But yes. It's all done, and all we need to do is wake him up. Shall we?"

"The sooner the better." Steve replied. "Never been one for uncertainty. And neither was he."

"Catch him for me when he wakes up, will you?" She requested, directing Steve to stand near the chamber. "He's likely to be disoriented when he comes to, and he might come tearing out of those restraints. I'm sure this sensation is not one with any happy memories attached to it, regardless of whether or not he recalls them."

Steve hadn't thought of that, but he nodded and stepped forward as the lab assistants clustered around behind him.

"Ready?" Shuri asked.

There had been a sort of background radiation of anxiety surrounding this moment for Steve. About whether or not this would work. If Bucky would still be Bucky when he came to, or if the puzzle would have been up ended once more and they'd have to start all over again. Until now, it had just been a sort of buzz in the back of his brain, like the drone of an annoying fly. But that anxiety roiled to the surface now, nearly making him sway before he managed to swallow it back down again. In its wake the only answer he could muster for Shuri was a tight-lipped nod.

There was a pop and a hiss of cold air that coiled and fogged around Steve's ankles. The ice on the chamber's glass panel cracked and flaked as it slid open. Steve counted Bucky's shallow breaths until he opened his eyes. Too many. Too many breaths, weak as they were. Steve felt himself mimicking them. Short and cramped, air whistling uselessly along the roof of his mouth. It felt like breathing did before the serum. On one of those bad days when the cold had set in for the year. Chest tight. Not enough air. Never enough air...

But after the eternity that was in reality only a short moment, Bucky opened his eyes. A wordless groan escaped him as fear suffused his face, spreading across his features like an oil slick. His expression was fogged and frightened as he looked around with wide, almost unseeing eyes. His mouth worked, trying to form words. To protest on instinct. His arm and empty shoulder twitched, muscles jumping uselessly, but his body wasn't obeying him yet. All he could do was wordlessly moan.

Steve stepped into his field of view, grabbing his hand and pulling his face towards him. "Easy, Buck." he whispered, the words barely more than the sound of breath. "Easy."

His fist closed painfully around Steve's hand as his head snapped around, his hair throwing off a spray of ice crystals. But the instant he saw Steve's face, his eyes cleared. Another two breaths, taken together this time. Slower and easier. And then Bucky smiled. That same smile from Zola's lab. The relieved, blissful, "Oh thank God, it's you." smile. That smile.

Bucky took another breath and reality fully overrode his initial instinct and reaction to a horribly familiar sensation. He saw where he was and who was with him. "Steve." he breathed the name, his voice raw and rough with disuse.

"Hey, Buck." Steve said, his words suffused with relief. He was unable to stop himself from carding a hand through Bucky's hair and shaking out the last few shards of ice that clung there.

"Did… did you figure it out?" He asked with desperate, hopeful eyes, before giving a hoarse cough to clear his throat.

"Yeah, Buck." Steve was smiling so hard it hurt. "It's already fixed. Shuri wants to run a few more tests but… it's already done."

He shook his head, still a little bleary eyed. "How long was I out?"

"A little over a week."

"That's all?"

"That's all, Buck. Just a week."

"Steve worked fast on retrieving some HYDRA files that expedited the process." Shuri explained, glancing up from her tablet and smiling. "Welcome back, by the way. Take your time and get your bearings." 

Bucky was still looking around the lab, squinting a little in the bright light, when his eyes fell on Natasha's unconscious form in the neighboring cryo chamber. He started instantly at the sight, pulling unconsciously at the restraints holding him. "What… what happened to her?"

"She's fine. She'll be fine." Steve instinctively answered, attempting to soothe him as he tugged the restraints apart and helped Bucky from the chamber. "I'll explain what happened later. There were… some unexpected obstacles on the way to find some information that Shuri needed to help you."

"Natasha got hurt? Trying to help me?" 

The guilt in those words threatened to tear Steve's already threadbare heart in two. "It was her decision to come with me. And she's not hurt. I'll explain later, I promise." 

Bucky nodded vaguely, the frown on his face deepening as he stepped out of the chamber, steadying himself against Steve's strong grip. He'd begun to shake from the cold as his body was reawakened to the sensations around him.

Shuri passed him a towel to soak up the melting ice on his skin. "How do you feel, Sergeant?"

"Cold." he answered frankly, hunching his shoulders under the towel. "But… the air feels hot. It's… it's like before…"

"Mm… that's to be expected." Shuri said. "I'm very sorry. It shouldn't last long. I can only bend so many laws of physics." She smiled wryly. 

Steve's spine straightened a little at that as he glanced briefly out the glass doors that led to the Queen's garden. The sun was shining brightly that day, cutting sharply between the puffy white clouds. "Let's go outside." he suggested. "Warm you up quicker."

"Good idea." Shuri remarked. "I'm cold just looking at him, and we're not quite ready to run our diagnostic tests yet. I'll call you both back in when we're ready for him."

Steve pulled Bucky's arm across his shoulder, and while he didn't really need the help walking, he still leaned on him gratefully. Bucky sighed audibly when the sun hit his clammy skin, his head lolling onto Steve's shoulder as they stumbled out to a stone bench.

"Any idea about what sort of tests I'm in for?"

"No idea." Steve replied, easing them both down. He straddled the bench and pulled Bucky gently to sit between his knees.

"What happened to Natasha? Is she really going to be okay?" Bucky was listing into Steve as they talked.

"About a week after you went under, Shuri hit a snag regarding… undoing what HYDRA did to you." 

_Would talking about this ever get easier,_ he wondered. 

"She needed some specific information about the electrical impulses they used to implant those trigger words that Zemo used. Without it, she wouldn't be able to undo it by any means other than trial and error which could have been disastrous." 

"And of course, Natasha knew who had it." Bucky nodded.

"She has a contact in Kiev. Someone with access to old HYDRA files. He's the same one who gave us your file after the Triskelion fell." Steve said, turning slightly so Bucky's artificial shoulder slotted more comfortably against his chest, allowing the sun to more effectively bake his skin dry. "Her contact had a redacted version of the file that was missing the important data we needed, but he had run a file trace. Turns out the point of origin was the Red Room."

"Shit." Bucky breathed. "You took Natasha back to the Red Room? Was it even still there?"

"Just the foundation, and of course it had a secret basement. She… She wanted to go." Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wouldn't take the out I gave her. I offered to let her stay in Kiev. Even said I would take her back to Wakanda. But she wasn't hearing any of it. That was sort of the last straw in a way… knowing that the information we needed about your HYDRA programming had been housed at one point in the Red Room. That and… I told her what you told me. That it wasn't bad news? Whatever it is she doesn't remember about you?"

Bucky nodded a little, listing even closer to Steve until he was half laying on him. He distantly thought he should care about appearances, but that thought was silenced by the tightening circle of Steve's arms. He was so warm. Warmer than the sun shining down on them.

"So what did you find?" Bucky asked, forcing himself to concentrate.

"Apparently… Arnim Zola wasn't the only HYDRA bigwig to try to prolong his life the way he did. By stuffing his brain into a giant room full of computers." Steve felt Bucky stiffen at the mention of that name, prompting him to slide a soothing hand through his hair as he kept talking. Bucky followed the touch like an affectionate cat, arching and relaxing again as he focused on the story. "The Matron of the Red Room was literally in the basement, stored in a huge bank of computers just like Zola. And she knocked Natasha out with some sort of electrical pulse."

"Shit. But you said she's okay."

Steve lifted the shoulder that Bucky wasn't lying on in a shrug. "She's alive." he answered, the words halfway to a sigh. "And Shuri is as optimistic as ever, so I'm trying not to worry."

Bucky craned around to look at him, hand coming up to rest on his chest. "I'm so sorry, Steve."

Steve pressed his lips to Bucky's hairline. "It's not your fault." The words. The motion. It was all automatic.

"But it's cause of me." he sighed pressing his cheek against Steve's shoulder. "I still… I still don't know if I'm worth all this. All these people..."

Steve hooked one finger under Bucky's chin and he followed the motion, hair falling back out of his eyes as he looked up at Steve. He stroked his thumb along Bucky's cheek as he spoke. "Did I ever tell you what Peggy said to me after you fell from the train?"

Bucky shook his head, eyes never leaving Steve's face.

"She found me drinking that night, for all the good it did me after the serum. And after we'd exchanged a round or two of "It's not your fault" and "Yes, it is." and "No, it isn't." After all that she asked me, in that no-nonsense Peggy way, she said, "Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him?" And when I told her I did she said I should stop blaming myself. And, in her words, I should allow you the dignity of your choice because you damn well thought I was worth it."

A slight tremor chased through Bucky's shoulders. It might've been from the residual cold, or the recollection of the train, or just the desire to press even closer to Steve. He reached up, knuckles tracing Steve's unshaven jaw. "You were worth it. You are worth it."

"Then so are you." Steve said with a firm gentleness. "That's my choice. And that was Natasha's choice too. Just like everyone else who's come to our aid."

Bucky looked up at him again, sharp gray eyes turning soft in the bronzing sunlight. 

"I didn't make Natasha come with me to the Red Room." he went on. "I didn't make Sam come with me to chase you way back when. And Clint and Wanda and Scott... They knew I was going after you no matter what, and they could either let me go, or come with me. They chose to come with, even though they knew who and what they were chasing and what the consequences of those actions might be. They chose to come with me and help you."

Bucky heaved a sigh and nodded. "Okay." he said before stretching up to press his lips against Steve's. He reveled in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his skin. It was as if the heat of his open mouth was seeping into Bucky's very bones.

"I love you." Steve whispered against his parted lips.

"I love you too." 

"I missed you."

"I was under less than a week, you sap."

"Doesn't matter." Steve answered, gently rubbing their noses together.

"I missed you too, I think." Bucky said, his face bending into the slightest frown. "It was like when they would wake me up… when HYDRA had me. My first sensation would just be… cold, and the… this nagging feeling that I was missing something. And I felt it again… It was like my brain was on autopilot. That scared me more than anything else. More than the cold… but then you were there." He smiled that beaming, relieved smile that made Steve's chest ache.

Steve pulled him close, one arm cinching around his waist and the other hand moving to cup his jaw, drawing him up for another hungry kiss. 

"Are you keeping this?" Bucky spoke the question against his throat, dragging one finger through the slowly filling stubble on Steve's cheek.

"Only if you like it." Steve answered, catching the tip of Bucky's finger in his teeth.

"I think I do actually." Bucky replied, his pupils swelling a little. "What does Natasha think?"

"She certainly didn't seem to mind."

His expression turned on a dime. Gone in a flash from adoring to keenly amused though the smile remained undimmed. "So you were making time with her while I was under, huh?" Bucky teased, his eyes glinting sharply in the sun though there was not a shred of jealousy to be seen in the playful lines of his face.

Steve sputtered none the less, to Bucky's eternal glee. "I didn't… She kissed me, Buck. That's-"

His voice faded out as Bucky was overcome with a fit of absolutely giddy laughter, falling into the circle of his arms, and leaning on Steve like he was cornerstone for the whole of creation.

The world slowed in that moment for Steve. There in the Wakandan sunlight, in the Queen's royal garden, Steve heard Bucky laugh. He had his Bucky and could hear his ridiculous laugh. And it was at Steve's expense, because of course it was. Just like the old days. Before they were anything more than a pair of scrappy kids in Brooklyn. Something swelled in Steve's heart. Something that felt like yearning but also tasted of relief. Of rest. Of the promise of some sort of peace at last.

But something stained Bucky's smile in that moment, withering it at the edges after the all too brief summer of laughter had passed. Something he saw in Steve's eyes. In the adoration reflected there. It made him reach out again, questioning fingers to brush his cheek.

"What is it, Buck?" 

"I hope it worked." he said softly, the last shreds of his smile melting into a frown.

Steve's arms tightened again. "Shuri's smart. She knows what she's doing." 

Bucky snorted. "You always said that about Howard Stark, and his shit always blew up half the time."

"That girl is smarter than Howard and Tony combined." Steve retorted. "And has twice the common sense."

"That's encouraging. You uh...You hear from Tony?" he asked, settling back against Steve's chest.

Guilt curled suddenly and sharply in Steve's guts. He'd forgotten. How could he forget? He had the phone, sure. It was always on him. He'd taken it to the Red Room and back. Didn't even leave it on the jet. But he hadn't… he hadn't thought about it. Not even once. Not like he did Natasha's phone when they were apart.

"No...not yet." he answered hanging his head.

Bucky sighed and collapsed into him a little more. "I hope he comes around." he settled on saying after a moment's deliberation. "I want… I don't know what I want."

Steve was about to say something he hoped would be reassuring, but just then, Shuri called from across the courtyard. "Sergeant Barnes? Captain Rogers? Could I have you back in the lab, please? We are ready to check a few things."

Both men nodded, disentangling themselves slowly, like candy on a pulling machine.

"I don't have to stay for this. If you don't want." Steve said helping him to his feet. 

_But I want to…_ his tone belied.

"You probably should be there." 

"I should?"

Bucky cut him a wounded, anxiety-ridden look, and Steve suddenly understood.

If it all went sideways… if it turned out that it didn't work, it would be down to Steve to keep Bucky under control until he could be knocked out and put on ice again. Shuri could do that probably… right? As long as Bucky didn't get to her-

"Right." Steve forced the word out. The shadows were back, tucked into the hollow places in both their faces and behind their once shining eyes. Even in the blinding sun. Would those shadows ever be gone?

Back in the lab, Bucky pulled himself up to sit on an exam table, his body and face fraught with tight lines of apprehension as the assistants pressed monitors to his skin. He looked almost exactly as he had when he'd gone under a week ago. Resigned. Regretful. And when he glanced up at Steve, he looked so full of longing it seemed he might vibrate out of his skin.

Steve took his place in front of him, trying once again to smile but only achieving a taut press of lips.

"I'm sorry to do this to you." Bucky said over the shoulder of the lab technician placing sensors across his chest.

"No, it's okay." Steve said shaking his head.

"The fuck it is." Bucky huffed out a harsh laugh. "But here we are."

"It's alright, Buck. Shuri knows what she's doing. I'm just a precaution."

"I just wish… I wish I didn't need precautions."

Steve couldn't maintain his distance then. Not even for the sake of the poor lab assistants scurrying around, painfully aware by virtue of averted eyes and very busy hands, that they were in the middle of an intensely private conversation. Steve crossed that short space to meet him, pulling him as tight as possible against his chest, even with all the sensors and wires coming off of him.

"I've got you, Buck." He breathed into his hair. "You won't need precautions after this. That's the whole point."

"I know." Bucky replied, burying his face against Steve's collarbone for a moment and just breathing the assurance in. "Okay, let's do this." He made eye contact with Shuri and gave a terse nod which she answered in kind.

Steve made to step back but Bucky's hand on his wrist kept him within arm's reach, palm resting on Bucky's knee. They both watched as Shuri pulled the red covered notebook from a filing box and dropped it open to a well worn page.

"Ready?" she asked, her dark brown eyes showing apprehension for the first time that Steve had ever seen. It was not a look that suited her young, inquisitive face.

Bucky gave an abortive nod, not looking at her or the book as he settled himself on the hard exam table and squared his shoulders. His hand stayed firmly clasped around Steve's, pinning it over his knee.

"I've got you, Buck." Steve said again, impulsively. As if he could will it to be true just by repeating it.

"I know." came the automatic response, before he gave another abrupt nod to Shuri.

Steve heard her take a breath and begin. No preamble. No "Are you ready?" Just the first in a string of seemingly meaningless words.

"Longing." The Russian syllables purred out of her mouth with perfect, practiced ease.

Steve's mind wandered briefly… _Where had Shuri learned Russian?_

Bucky's hand tightened abruptly around Steve's, sending a piercing pain rattling up through his bones and grounding him in the moment once more. He might've broken someone else's hand. A sharp breath stabbed into Bucky's lungs and he held it there, as if he was afraid of what would escape along with it.

Everyone waited. The air was still. No one breathed. No one moved.

Bucky looked up at Steve, eyes wide with fear. But sparkling with something else. Something clear and focused. He was evaluating. He was _able_ to evaluate. That word… those syllables. They meant fear but… but nothing else. He forced air out of his lungs in a long shuddering exhale, and forced himself to release his crushing grip on Steve's hand.

"Keep going." he prised the words out through gritted teeth. And almost seemed surprised that he could speak them.

Shuri looked to Steve who nodded, before locking eyes with Bucky again.

"Rusted."

Another inhale, but not as sharp this time. More an easing of his ribs followed by a roll of his shoulders and a deliberate exhale. Bucky gave another nod, and from there, a rhythm settled over the proceedings.

"Seventeen."

_Inhale. Exhale. Don't move. Nod._

"Daybreak."

_Repeat the process._

"Furnace."

_Again._

"Nine."

_And again._

"Benign." 

_And again..._

"Homecoming."

_Just breathe._

"One."

_Yes… one more._

"Freightcar." 

_And…_

_Nothing._

They were out of words. They were done. Nothing had happened.

Bucky had waited between each of those damned words for the fish hooks to sink into his brain and pull him into that frigid quiet place where he could only scream and beat against the walls of his skull as his body obeyed orders that made him want to vomit. The fear had wrung and twisted him as it always had. The fear of pain. The fear of what was worse than the pain.

But...

The words were out, and nothing happened. The panic Bucky had felt was just instinctual. He could breathe. He could see. He could move without needing to be told.

He smiled up at Steve, light blossoming in his eyes as he threw his one arm around him and buried his face against his chest. He actually laughed, the desperate sound vibrating in Steve's ribs. It was a bright laugh, nigh on hysterical with relief, and it swiftly infected Steve who pulled him into a tight embrace.

Shuri for her part kept her celebration short. She jumped with a whoop, punching into the air before spinning on her heels to bark orders to her assistants. She wanted all the data compiled for study. She still had one more Russian assassin to fix and this data would be crucial.

"It worked." Bucky breathed the words against Steve's chest. His face felt wet, but all the ice had long since melted and dried. He was crying he realized. And so was Steve. He looked up and found his face messy and damp as well.

The moment was one without words. There weren't any that could do more than skirt the enormity of it… the finality… the relief...

None but the ones Bucky had already said, so he repeated them.

"It worked."

And Steve echoed him. "It worked."

***

It was another three days before Shuri and her team were ready to thaw Natasha. Recalibrating the neural array took time, as they hadn't taken any baselines of Natasha before she went under. But after Bucky's resounding success, Steve was willing to wait for Shuri to feel confident. 

On the second day of her work, Shuri asked both Steve and Bucky to stop by the lab. 

"So, I'm sure it comes as no surprise that Ms. Romanoff has some memory blocks from her time at the Red Room." Shuri said, hugging her tablet against her chest as they talked.

Both men shook their heads. 

"Has she ever talked to you about them?"

"Not until recently." Steve replied, shaking his head again. "Not until she was aware she had them which wasn't until a few weeks ago." 

"The reason I'm asking is because I have the ability to remove them. The file had adaptations of the Winter Soldier protocols that were used on a few of the Red Room agents. Of which… she was recorded as being the first."

Steve heard an angry snort from Bucky as he stalked away. He watched him go, the concern in his eyes trailing after him like a shadow until Shuri spoke again.

"Do either of you know if she wants them removed?"

Steve hesitated, remembering their conversation in the jet on the way to the Red Room. "She told me that she did." he answered. "She said that, whatever they took from her, she wants it back."

Shuri nodded. "That's good enough for me. I'm going to clear the blocks overnight and wake her up in the morning."

"Thank you, Shuri." he said, turning to join Bucky at the window overlooking the garden.

"You sure this is the right decision?" Bucky asked.

Steve nodded. "It's what she said she wanted. I think… I think she's done letting the fears of her past control her."

"Fair enough." Bucky answered with a shrug. "If you're sure, I'm sure."

"I think she's the one that's sure at this point." Steve said, pulling Bucky in close against his ribs.

***

_There was no cold quite like the cold of a Russian winter. Especially at night when there was no wind and the snow fell in thick, blanketing flakes fatter than a thumbnail. It was a pervasive cold. Intrusive and penetrating, sneaking in through the cracks of window panes and seeping through even the warmest clothes. But there was something about the numbness that followed the initial stabbing surprise of the chill that Natalia found comforting. Even when she was in barely more than her flannel nightgown._

_In the cold of a Russian winter, everything was still. The trees. The sky. Even Natalia herself. Everything was static but the gently falling snow. It was as if the world itself were caught by it... Ensnared in its trap and thinking that being still might spare it a worse fate. The forest and the eaves of the manor house looked like a Christmas night in one of those American cartoons the instructors let them watch when they'd done well at training. Everything frozen in a perfect picture, but for the hazy, lazy drift of snowflakes._

_Natalia would count the them as they melted on her gloved palm._

_One… two… three… four…_

_It was such a blissful escape. So nice to think about nothing. So nice to be able to quantify something without having to make a calculation about it. So much of her world required calculation._

_How many knives had gone missing from the dinner table._

_How many girls didn't show up for morning drills?_

_How many bullets had her opponent fired, and had they started with a round in the chamber?_

_She liked numbers. And she liked the cold. They pinned everything down. Held it still for her scrutiny. Or just for her viewing pleasure._

_It was only the latter when she was up here with only the cold and the dark for company. They were the only companions she had that she could trust to not want to kill her. Not that they wouldn't or couldn't. But there was no agenda to parse. No reason for her to anticipate. They held no knives for her to count._

_Thirty-seven… thirty-eight… thirty-nine..._

_It was nice, but Natalia could only handle the cold for so long. Even with her boots on under her pajamas and two pairs of wool socks and her coat. She couldn't stay in that perfect suspension forever. Besides, she was likely to get called out to spar in morning drills again. She needed her rest._

_When she turned back to sneak into her window, she noticed a light was on in the manor's attic window and she frowned at that. No one was allowed up there. It was just storage for extra furniture and such. But there were several complicated locks on the door._

_She hesitated, lips pressed together and eyes picking a path where no snow lay to possibly betray her footprints in the morning. The climb was possible if a little risky due to the ice that had collected on the roof in patches. But she was curious. That curiosity had won her many prizes in the past, including the knife she carried in an interior pocket she'd sewn into her nightgown._

_Besides, just a look couldn't hurt anything._

_The climb was precarious, especially when she crouched on the ice-coated windowsill to peer inside. She couldn't see anything other than old furniture covered in canvas drop cloths, and their attendant long shadows stretched out on the floor. But the lamp illuminating the room wasn't like anything else in the Red Room. Not like their antique brass fixtures. It was an examining lamp… like something in the medical office. Strange._

_She deftly picked the lock with the same pick she used to escape her handcuffs, and managed despite the ice to clamber inside, pulling the window shut behind her. This window didn't have a suicide bar, she noted. Whatever was up here, they weren't worried about it escaping._

_At first she thought the room was empty. Just the hulking shapes of old wardrobes and beds and shelves pressed against the outer walls. It was as still as the snow-blanketed world outside. And almost as cold._

_"You're not supposed to be up here." an unfamiliar voice whispered. A man’s voice._

_Natalia wheeled around to find the strangest sight. There in the circle of the bright light was a man. Bare-chested and fitted with a gleaming metal arm. He sat strapped in some sort of examination chair. The tangled ropes of his filthy dark hair hung in his face, but even in spite of the shadows, his eyes eerily caught the dusty light._

_"No, I'm not." she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're not going to call for the Matron are you?"_

_"No. Who are you?" the man asked._

_"I'm Natalia." she answered, stepping farther into the room, but not getting any closer to him. "I'm in training here. Who are you?"_

_His mouth worked for a minute, as if it was trying to remember syllables long forgotten. "Just a soldier." He finally settled on saying._

_Natalia frowned at that answer. And on its heels, she remembered that while she was eating breakfast that morning, she saw two men arrive at the Red Room, both in expensive suits followed by uniformed KGB officers. This man wasn't one of them. The Matron had greeted them with a practiced warmth that was never shown to her recruits or her staff. Her usually drawn mouth had stretched into a smile as she welcomed them in. Natalia hadn't seen them again for the rest of the day. Nor the Matron. It was the first time in Natalia's memory that the Matron had missed a meal with her girls. She'd missed two, actually. Lunch and dinner that day..._

_"You don't look like any of the soldiers I've ever seen." she said, bravely beginning to edge closer. She gauged his reaction and was surprised when he leaned back instead of forward._

_"I'm not like any other soldiers." He answered darkly, his keen eyes glinting in the shadows of his face. "You shouldn't be here."_

_"I always sneak out." Natalia said, an edge of youthful defiance creeping into her tone. "I haven't been caught yet. Where did you come from?"_

_"I don't know." He said with a shake of his head, scattering more of his limp dark hair across his forehead. The faintest hint of an American accent hung on his words, hiding in the crevasses of vowels that seemed unfamiliar to his tongue._

_She was inching closer and closer, placing herself in arm's reach. The restraints were sturdy so she wasn't afraid. Though, judging by his rigid posture, he was more than a little wary of her. She could see him better now that her eyes had adjusted to the grimy light and deep shadows. But she still couldn't really see his face under the heavy fringe of hair that hung in his eyes._

_Natalia raised her hand, and he followed the motion with a keen, nearly feral paranoia plainly stamped in his gaze. He was already pressed back as far as he could get in the chair, acting as if she were a snake that might bite. But she reached out slowly, first resting her fingertips on his forehead and watching his breath catch and his eyes cinch closed in anticipation of… something._

_But when it didn't come, he opened them again, watching her hand as she pushed his hair out of his eyes. The soldier didn't move save for his eyes, his breath coming sniper-shallow. He remained locked in place, but something flickered in the depths of his gaze. Something aching and desperate which made her cup his unshaven cheek in her tiny hand._

_His skin was so cold…_

_It was so cold in here. She was suddenly aware that she was fighting shivers in her thick nightgown and boots, and he didn't have a shirt. But he sat stock still. As still as the snow-covered forest outside. As if her hand had pinned him in place._

_Her eyes fell on his metal arm, her gaze tracing the contours of the interlocking plates until they met the gnarled line of scar tissue that joined man to machine. Her hand that had come to rest on his chin made to move down to touch it of its own accord and she stopped herself, flinching back slightly and looking up into his eyes. "Does that hurt?" she asked inclining her head to the prosthetic._

_He shook his head. A tiny movement. "Not right now."_

_She looked as if she wanted to ask another question, but couldn't find the words. Not right now? What did that mean? Where had he come from? Did he lose his arm or was it taken?_

_And more than she wanted to ask, she wanted to touch. Should she? Would he let her? Would that make it better somehow? Maybe there was a blanket in here she could give him? He looked so cold… but then they would know someone was here and-_

_Suddenly, there was a clamor on the other side of the attic door and both their heads snapped to. A second later, she recognized it as multiple sets of thudding footsteps and that sent her fleeing for the window just before the the door burst open. The Matron followed by the soldier's apparent handlers as well as a handful armed guards fanned out into the room._

_"I thought you had better control of your trainees, madam." one of the men sneered as two of his soldiers caught Natalia around the elbows. She kicked out at them both, sending one reeling with a booted foot to the knee, but the Matron was on her in an instant, taking a fist full of her nightgown and ripping her around._

_Natalia froze in her grip, staring wide-eyed up at her face. It occurred to her that she had never seen the Matron this close before. Close enough to see the finest filaments of shadow settled in the creases of her parchment-thin skin. Close enough to see the yellowing in her eyes. And that her jet black hair had been dyed two days ago._

_The Matron was older than she'd previously thought. A futile calculation, but an instinctual one._

_"What are you doing out of bed, Natalia?" Her voice, thin as a switchblade, pinioned her where she stood._

_"I watch the snowfall in winter from out on the roof." she answered automatically. "I saw the light on."_

_"Pity." one of the suited men came alongside them, looking down his crooked nose. "Natalia, you said? She's one of your more promising ones, isn't she?"_

_"What's the pity?" The Matron asked primly fixing him with her keen eyes, but he didn't sway._

_"She can't be left alive. She can't if she's seen him." He nodded to the man in the chair, who watched the proceedings with haunted eyes. His muscles strained a little at the bindings, almost as if conflicted instincts were driving him._

_Natalia felt herself go stiff, but she couldn't bring herself to struggle. They were too close for her to profitably pull her switchblade. She was outnumbered. Then, she thought about manipulating them, hopeless as it seemed. Maybe she could succeed, but not with the Matron here. She even thought about begging. Especially when the Matron looked down at her again, eyes narrowing in appraisal. But that would probably lessen her chances. An agent of the Red Room, even one in training, did not beg._

_"You promised a secure test site for our Asset." one of the suited men was speaking again. The one standing by the soldier._

_An Asset…? Natalia had heard of these… Something about Soviet super-soldiers. Or maybe not just Soviet..._

_"So unfortunate." the other man replied blandly. "We'll have to wipe him too. And that shortens our time-table." he nodded irritably to the soldiers, one of whom was still nursing his knee. "Get him underground. Down in the basement will do. And deal with her."_

_They made a beeline for Natalia, but the Matron surprised them all by pivoting and pulling Natalia behind her._

_"I have a better idea." she said. "You wanted to test your protocols on one of my girls. To see if our techniques and training are compatible with your methods for engendering Asset compliance and memory modification. But I refused because I didn't want to sacrifice one of my highly trained agents to your experimenting."_

_"If they're so highly trained, they would obey orders." one of the men in suits quipped._

_"I don't brainwash my recruits the way you do, sir." she bit back, nodding to the soldier in the chair. "A certain level of humanity retained can be useful. Memories are important because with them comes experience. Certainly, your Asset could best any one of my Agents, but if she managed to survive, he might not find her such easy prey the next time, whereas he would have gained nothing from the venture. But that is a discussion for another time. My offer is this. Test your methods on Natalia. Either it works, it kills her, or it doesn't work and you can kill her afterward. But if there's a chance I can salvage a decade of training on one of my most promising agents, I'd like to take it."_

_The suited men looked at each other for a moment and then nodded together. "Perhaps this little… mishap will turn out better for all of us."_

_One of the men sniffed and looks to his partner. "That is fair. Take her downstairs too. Now! Move!"_

_There was the impulse for Natalia to run for the window again, but the Matron's grip was like iron. How far would she get anyway? She'd seen girls get run down by the dogs in the woods before they made the treeline. And that was without six feet of snow barring their path._

_The Matron must have felt her flinch. Felt the instinct ripple through her body because her grip tightened. "Come, Natalia." She said coolly._

_What could she do but obey? It seemed the only option where survival was a possible outcome. A test. It was just a test. She'd survived tests before. This was her best chance, and so she went with them, docile as a lamb in the Matron's iron grip._

_As she was drug from the room, she heard the men talking._

_"Should we wipe him here?"_

_"Let's do it now. Then move him. Just to be safe."_

_"Very well." he cleared his throat. "Longing… Rusted… Seventeen…_

_The man in the chair. The soldier who wasn't like other soldiers. Who had eyes as cold as the Russian winter. He started screaming as a strange series of unassociated words was spoken by one of the men in suits. He screamed and screamed like they'd taken a white-hot branding iron to his flesh and the sound followed Natalia all the way to the bottom of the stairs._

***

Natasha came to with what felt like scalding water being poured into her lungs. She sputtered, and coughed, and tried to suck in something that didn't feel like breathing lava but to no avail. Every breath felt like the air she pulled into her body was boiling. But then she realized that it was just that… air. Normal, warm air. Far warmer than she was, though she seemed to be thawing so rapidly that her bones ached with the change. 

_Where was she?_ She was in… had been... in the basement of the Red Room. The Matron, she… and then nothing. Cut to black. And now she's here. _Where is here… white walls, concerned faces…_

_And Steve…_

"Hey Nat." he said, trying to smile through the concern that twisted his handsome features. His beard was longer by a fraction, fully obscuring his jaw now. "Welcome back."

"Steve? Where… where am I? What…" Her tongue felt swollen and hot in her mouth. She started forward and found herself restrained by two belts across her torso. She twisted against them, feeling her limbs obey her albeit very sluggishly. She looked up at him with a fresh wave of confusion washing across her features. "What's happening?"

"Easy. Let me get those." Steve said, helping her pull the buckles loose. "We found the Matron in the basement of the Red Room. She was all computerized like Zola and she knocked you out. Some kind of electrical blast? Something… We had to put you in cryo so Shuri could wake you up and… well, it's a bit of a long story. How do you feel?"

She blinked trying to ease the glare as Steve let her lean on his hand to step out of the chamber. She stumbled and fell against the broad expanse of his chest. She couldn't quite feel her feet yet. Or anything below the knee really. 

Natasha was about to ask about what happened again, even though she'd heard him answer the question already. The words made sense in her brain, but she couldn't quite remember. Her head felt like it was full of cotton. And so did the back of her throat. But before she could speak her eyes fell on the empty cryo chamber beside the one she'd just stepped out of. She blinked hard, her thoughts clearing. It shouldn't be empty… 

It should… Bucky should...

Something in her mind shifted, like a predator just under the water…

It was like coming to suddenly out of a vivid dream. The waking world flooded her memory, but what she had dreamed of still lingered, like a film of sticky black oil. Only it wasn't a dream. She'd remembered something. She'd remembered Bucky… Only it hadn't been Bucky. She'd seen a soldier… who wasn't like the other soldiers. 

And… wait…

_Wait._

"Where's Bucky?" she asked, looking up at Steve with deeply worried eyes. She felt awful. Cold and wrung out like a dishrag, but the sight of that empty cryo chamber suddenly had her blood pumping. Her skin itched at the spreading heat and she debated for a moment if she should pull Steve close. Would that help warm her or make this unsettling sensation of being boiled alive worse? She already wanted to run… run back out to the cold or... or had that been the dream? There had been snow in the dream...

Not a dream.

_A memory._

She remembered…

Steve placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, which somehow prompted her to take a slow, consolidating breath. Then he pivoted to reveal Bucky on the opposite side of the lab, leaning against the door looking out into the garden. He turned a fraction just enough to get his gaze on her; careful and steely. Natasha felt her breath catch as their eyes met. Memory and present suddenly matched. And finally… the proverbial camera shutter clicked for her, giving her a clear image of that night she hadn't remembered. Of the thing she'd forgotten. 

No… no, not forgotten. The thing that was stolen from her. Stolen so completely she hadn’t even realized it was gone. She let it wash over her now. Let it overlay reality for a moment and savored it.

A memory of cold that was different from the cold now. And of the Matron who was different from the one she'd just seen a few days ago. And of the Red Room before it was a just a slab of concrete, and her handcuffs, and that chair they'd put her in down in the basement and…

And Bucky. The Asset. The soldier who was different from all the others. Who was different now from how he had been then, now that they were both warm and safe. 

But his eyes were the same. Gray and glinting, watching her sidelong and wary, his face cutting a sharp profile against the blisteringly blue sky.

She bolted for him, pushing past Steve and Shuri and all her assistants, and trailing wires and tearing off sensors as she made a beeline to stand in front of him, face to face. He'd held his ground when he saw her coming. Almost as if he was shackled in place again. Stiff and rooted to the floor.

Neither spoke, but their eyes locked. Neither moved until Natasha stepped closer. Closer even than arm's reach. So close she could hear the faint sounds of his breath, like a sniper's breathing. Shallow and still.

She raised her hand again, and he watched the motion like before, eyes wary and wide. Her fingers come to rest on his forehead, pushing back a stray lock of hair to hook it behind his ear. The same motion. The same intent. The same shivering and confused earnestness. And a faint twinge of curiosity too. What would he do this time?

Bucky followed the motion, the scruff of his beard prickling against her palm as he pressed his cheek into her open hand. He held her gaze this time too, that recollection shining through and meeting her own. Her hand trembled where it met his skin and she smiled. A broken smile, but a relieved one. 

Her eyes fell where his arm used to be, the metal shoulder still capped with a black cotton sleeve, but the shine of the steel and the braid of scar tissue still peeked through. "Does it hurt?" she asked, her voice cracking as she passed her hand down to rest lightly on the cap of the empty socket.

"Not anymore." he answered softly, a smile threatening like a thundercloud.

Her other hand came up to rest on the side of his face, stroking more boldly this time. "I… I never remembered."

“I never went back to the Red Room while you were there." He replied gathering both her hands into his palm and pressing them to his collarbones. "There was nothing to… to bring the memory back. And they kept my face covered on missions. So even…" he paused to rake his teeth over his bottom lip. "Even when I shot you? You still never saw my face."

"But your memories came back."

"The Red Room assassins were different. You had their subroutines in your head from the beginning. I didn't. That's why they had to keep wiping me and starting from scratch. Keep me in cryo. I'd get everything back eventually if they left me out too long. But you… they discovered you didn't. Because they didn't have to hide everything from you. Just a piece."

"I wonder what else they stole from me." she said miserably as she contemplated the tops of her socked feet.

"Hey… hey... " he put a curled finger under her chin, pulling her eyes up to his. "They didn't take anything from you. You were always sweet, kind, and willful, Natasha. You saw a weapon strapped in a chair and your first thought was gentleness. The Red Room didn’t take that away from you. They tried to, but they failed. The person you are always remembers to be kind.”

Natasha felt all the air rush out of her body at that statement, making her swoon where she stood.

"And can I tell you something important?" Bucky asked, steadying her with his hand against the side of her neck, where the bruises he left were still fading.

She nodded, eyes still wide and blank.

"I was only a day and a half out of cryo when you found me. I was a blank slate that only knew training and consequences. As far as I knew… in that moment? That was the only time in my life that someone had laid a hand on me that… that didn't hurt."

She blinked, what little air she'd managed to save in her lungs leaving her in such a rush that she gasped to regain it. "That's why you didn't want me to touch you."

He nodded. "But I'd been out long enough to be afraid for you, too."

"Bucky…" his name was just a sigh, but one full of relief. She sagged against him, arms falling down to drape around his shoulders.

He awkwardly pulled her into a one armed hug. "It's alright, Natasha. It's alright." he soothed, rocking her lazily back and forth for a moment. "You uh… you get anything else back?"

She shook her head where it rested against his chest. Just inside the seam that joined him to the synthetic shoulder. "Just you."

***


	9. On the Threshold of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi." he said with something like a smile, as he squinted back at her.
> 
> "Hi." she replied carefully, having trouble reading his face through the glare.
> 
> Bucky scooted over a fraction and angled his shoulders slightly. Though there was plenty of room along the railing, it was a clear invitation for her to join him. To stand close. So she did, crossing her forearms on the carved stone and leaning out to stare at the jungle.
> 
> "So." she breathed, hoping she was succeeding in giving him a genuine smile. He didn't deserve to share her hurt. He didn't deserve to hurt ever again.
> 
> "So." he repeated back.
> 
> "This is awkward." she said still trying to smile.
> 
> "Eh." he curled his lip in deliberation. "I'd say my introduction to Tony was more awkward."
> 
> "Y'know… Same, actually. I'll have to tell you about it sometime. It involved me punching his security officer in the face."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone! Hope your week is off to a good start!
> 
> I'll keep this quick so we can get to the chapter. 
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for all the beta reading.
> 
> Many thanks to @iaintnosidekick for the amazing moodboard! It's so perfect!
> 
> And many thanks to you for reading, for your kind words and your encouragement, and for all the kudos!
> 
> Enjoy and I'll see you all next week for the final installment.

" " 

* * *

***

_For my true love mourns within_   
_On the threshold of night._

***

The afternoon for Natasha was spent answering a battery of questions and sitting for at least a dozen cognitive and reaction tests for Shuri and her staff. Much of which happened simultaneously. So much so that she occasionally felt an internal sort of vertigo at being bombarded with so many disconnected inquiries and requests.

"Can you feel this?" 

"Take a deep breath for me."

"Follow this light with your eyes."

"What year is it?"

"And another deep breath."

"Is the memory with the Winter Soldier the only one that came back?"

"Yes." she had responded. "It's the only one… it's the only memory they took from me." 

_That's strange… isn't that strange…?_

On and on it went, but Shuri was as expeditious as she was thorough. Once she and her team were satisfied that Natasha was indeed herself and was not liable to pass out or have sudden flashbacks from freshly uncovered trauma, she was released. Her first stop, she decided, was a change of clothes and a shower. She had never quite dried out from being in cryo and it felt like she was covered in clammy mildew. Next would be something (anything frankly, but preferably something warm) for dinner. She also needed to contact Clint, and contact Sam, since she was fairly certain Steve was otherwise occupied. Then she needed to check in with Grigory… there was just a lot to do. With the way the world was right now, three days was a long time.

She was resolutely not thinking about Steve and Bucky. She'd encouraged them to go once the tests got started. They'd fussed after her more than enough. But it still made her chest ache... Made the coldness return, crystalline and tight through her bones as she watched them go. As she watched how they'd left her in the lab (at her insistence, she reminded herself again) holding hands and smiling like all was right in the world.

She guessed it was now. For them anyway. She still had… work to do. Maybe out of Wakanda or maybe out of Morocco again. Or perhaps she could team up with Nakia. She would find something to do, anyway. Just like she had before. After all… her skillset had never had trouble finding friends.

Natasha headed for the stairs that lead up to the wing of guest suites, remembering that she'd left her things in Steve's room before they departed for Kiev. Unthinking, or rather, distracting herself with thinking about literally anything but Steve and Bucky, she popped the latch on the door and barged in. 

She was two steps into the room before she realized she'd caught the two of them in the middle of something. Not anything terribly scandalous. Everyone had their clothes on, but it was clearly an intimate moment. A kiss, or the beginnings of one, that they emerged from blinking and grinning. And, of course, Steve had flushed to his hairline.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Natasha said, turning her head and immediately searching for her stuff. "I wasn't even thinking… my things were in here and-" 

She stopped herself and looked at them. They hadn't talked about this. They probably needed to talk about this so that everyone was clear that there were no hurt feelings. No hurts that were anyone's fault, anyway. She would need to dismount gracefully from her position as Steve's right hand in order to ensure no one felt put out or crowded. Maybe they should do that now...

"You're fine." Bucky said, all smiles for her as he saw the myriad of questions and emotions flicker across her face. "Steve was about to run down and find some dinner. Do you want to join us?" 

Her eyes bounced back and forth between them for a second. "I… don't…" her voice faltered between a quick and falsely flippant dismissal and genuine desire to join them.

Steve saw it. Of course he saw it. And he'd found his voice now. "Are you hungry?" He was fixing her with a stare that she knew wouldn't allow for argument.

She just nodded. She was starving, actually.

"Then I'm going to go get some dinner. Shower's free if you need it. Your stuff's still in there." Steve jerked his thumb towards the bathroom behind him. Then he pecked Bucky on the cheek with an ease that made Natasha want to blush for watching it, but she actually blushed when he did the same to her before heading out the door. Same lips. Same smile for both of them. 

And that left her standing in the sun-drenched room with just Bucky, the two of them staring at each other with all the grace and self-assuredness of middle school wallflowers at a school dance. 

"I do need a shower." she finally said, shattering the tension in the room, or perhaps winding it so tight that the air itself had finally begun to go numb.

"Help yourself." he said with a sweeping gesture and an awkward smile. 

For being highly trained assassins, they were both clearly going to be terrible at this.

Maybe that's why they'd both done their best work on their own...

Natasha showered with a soldier's speed and economy. She didn't know how long Steve would be gone and, as she lathered herself up, she realized that she probably needed to clear the air between herself and Bucky first. And as soon as possible. It would keep things from being even more awkward moving forward.

Whatever the outcome. However the bones fell. They would just figure it out. Better sooner than later.

She emerged in a clean set of lounge clothes, hair hanging in loose cables to dry in the sunlight. She found Bucky out on the balcony, leaning on the rail with his one arm, sharp face angled into the cascade of sunlight. He turned his head when he heard her footsteps on the stone.

"Hi." he said with something like a smile, as he squinted back at her.

"Hi." she replied carefully, having trouble reading his face through the glare.

Bucky scooted over a fraction and angled his shoulders slightly. Though there was plenty of room along the railing, it was a clear invitation for her to join him. To stand close. So she did, crossing her forearms on the carved stone and leaning out to stare at the jungle.

"So." she breathed, hoping she was succeeding in giving him a genuine smile. He didn't deserve to share her hurt. He didn't deserve to hurt ever again.

"So." he repeated back.

"This is awkward." she said still trying to smile.

"Eh." he curled his lip in deliberation. "I'd say my introduction to Tony was more awkward."

"Y'know… Same, actually. I'll have to tell you about it sometime. It involved me punching his security officer in the face."

They laughed, and the sound seemed to surprise both of them.

_Now or never,_ Natasha thought. _While we're smiling and laughing and no one's gotten hurt yet. Like ripping off a bandaid. Just..._

"Look, I understand-"

"If you think I'm going to tell you to step off from Steve just because I'm marginally back to myself, that's not going to happen." Bucky cut her off, his eyes hard but not unkind. "Steve cares about you. A lot. And that alone would be enough for me, but… I know he means a lot to you too. And I know you've looked after him while I've been… away. You've looked after each other, really. That means more to me than anything, honestly. Steve, he's always… he's always been…" he paused, mouth working to find words.

"A headstrong idiot?" she supplied when he hesitated.

Bucky gave a surprised snort of laughter that melted into an agreeable nod. "Y'know. Yeah. A headstrong idiot. I was always getting him out of trouble. And the serum just made it worse, frankly. When they said it magnifies everything, they weren't kidding. Did he tell you about how he parachuted into occupied Austria to rescue me? Thirty miles into enemy territory."

"I read the dossier." Natasha replied with a grin. "At least he wore a parachute. I've seen him jump into the ocean from cruising altitude with nothing but his shield and a smart remark."

Bucky just shook his head with an entirely besotted smile. "Part of me is curious and part of me never ever wants to know what that punk has gotten up to in my absence. But still… You should get him to tell the Austria story sometime."

She blinked, her own smile softening into something else. Something more. Something warm and wanting of things that didn't quite have words to go with them. "Will you tell me the story sometime?" she asked, the question rampaging out of her mouth before she could bite it back. This wasn't how she was anticipating this conversation going at all...

Bucky turned to look at her full on this time, with the faintest smile painting his scruffy face. His expression had changed too. Grown into something soft. And if she wasn't mistaken… hopeful.

"Okay." he said, softly. "Okay."

Natasha stared for a moment. She remembered these eyes now, but they'd never looked so warm before. They'd always been staring down the sight of a rifle or watching his fingers close around her throat. Or following her hand as it drew near, certain her touch wouldn't bring anything but pain. These eyes had been shuttered before. Closed and hard and frozen over. Never warm. Never soft. Never desiring.

Never hopeful.

She reached out, instinct prompting her once more, and she didn't hesitate this time. Her fingers traced his temple, spreading to cup his cheek. And again he followed the motion, ending it surprisingly with a gentle kiss on her palm.

"Thank you." he said, the words and his beard tickling against her skin.

"For what?"

He smiled, a laugh snuffling out into her open hand. "Do you want a list? For looking after Steve, mainly. For caring about him when I couldn't."

"Thank you for letting me stay." she said, pivoting a little to face him better. 

“You make it sound like such a hardship.” He teased. 

Their hands met on the bannister fingers forming a tentative, exploring tangle. She stared down at the new contact. How many lives had ended at the will of these hands? Between their palms, what was the body count? It was staggering to think that they were here now. Enjoying gentle touches and the caress of sunlight as if they deserved such things.

"You've saved more lives than you've taken, Natasha." Bucky said, guessing her thoughts. "I know that much."

"The math doesn't work like that. It's not as simple as… as counting corpses." she replied, shaking her head as their palms pressed together. "I worked for some awful people. Maybe I didn't kill all the people they did, but I was a part of it. The KGB… HYDRA… there's no repaying that. No undoing it. Not for me anyway."

"Do you think I should be doing that? Out there paying my debt to the society I helped to shape into the mess it's in now?"

She let her thoughts rest on a long sigh. "I think we both should do what we need to do to sleep at night." she settled on saying.

He gave a weaving, considering nod. "That's some food for thought, I guess."

At some point Natasha's hand had fallen to Bucky's chest, and in the breath of silence that drifted between them, the intimacy struck her. Struck them both, in truth. Their eyes snagged together in a long stare that swirled with half formed thoughts, joined together with a single refrain.

_I've been a monster, but you understand._

_I've been unable to trust my mind, but you understand._

_I'm missing parts of myself, but you understand._

_But being with Steve has given me purpose…_

_Given me a life._

_Given me freedom._

_But you understand…_

Natasha realized that in the five minutes she and Bucky had been alone, they had more cleanly talked about their pasts… their histories… their body counts… more than she'd ever talked to Steve about such things. It was so easy. Bucky knew. Bucky understood. And something thorny that had been snagged deep inside her chest started to come loose.

"Would it be too much to ask to kiss you?" Bucky asked, a hesitancy hanging on his words like an ill-fitting suit.

The frankness of the request startled her. But any reason she could think of to say no slipped through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. So instead she gave him a bewildered smiled and shook her head. "Be my guest."

The nervousness clouding his expression shifted on a dime to a sweetly cocky smile. It was an expression she'd never seen him wear before. Not even in pictures. Though somehow now that she'd seen it, it was as if he was meant to have it all the time. Cocksure and warm and easy... and later when she was feeling more honest, she would admit that she fell in love with it right away. That was what prompted the angling of her head in invitation, beckoning him nearer with a sinful smile of her own. His hand stayed where it was, locked with hers as he leaned in, feeling her other hand slip up around his neck. 

The kiss was charming in its earnestness. They were arguably two of the deadliest people in the world and they kissed as sweetly and shyly as if it were their first time. There was no push or pull or demand for more. Just lazy, featherlight brushes of lips as gentle and lovely as the sunlight pouring down on them. And they both smiled through it, nearly laughing at the whole thing. 

It was ridiculous… with everything going on and everything that had happened, how was this kiss possible?

There was a scuff of boots on the tile and a soft huff of laughter. "Well, that didn't take long."

Bucky and Natasha broke apart to laugh themselves as they bashfully looked over at Steve, neither one able to do anything but make the briefest shy eye contact through fluttering lashes. He stood in the arch, one shoulder caught on the stonework and an approving smile on his face. One that actually reached his eyes, and showed his teeth and made Natasha's chest hurt. And Bucky's too if the fondness evident on his face was to be believed.

"You didn't warn me he could be so persuasive, Steve." Natasha chided, an impish little pout puckering her mouth as her hand curled around his neck, tangling in his long hair.

"You can be pretty persuasive too, as I recall. I figure it's an even match." he replied, pushing off the pillar and stepping out to join them in the sunlight. "Dinner's on the way up."

Natasha reached out as he approached, Bucky's hand still resting in hers. Steve stretched out both his arms, enveloping them both with the broad spread of his shoulders. The three of them listed together, swaying with the fragrant breeze with their upturned faces baking in the slowly sinking sun. 

They fit together so nicely. Natasha would have never called that. In that first moment of togetherness, they slipped into an ease that would never leave them. Briefly, some distant part of Natasha's tactically minded brain wondered what this might mean in the field… on mission… 

But the way Steve was looking at Bucky harried that thought from her mind. And the way Bucky was looking at her. And the way her heart bloomed in this outpouring of affection that fell on her like sweet summer rain. What did they do to deserve such softness? 

_Maybe everyone deserved it,_ Something in her heart answered. _And the world would suck less if everyone got to experience it._

Dinner arrived and Steve stepped away to lay it out on the table, insisting to the kitchen staff and to his friends that they needn't fuss. Natasha and Bucky, still tucked together and basking in the sun, both unabashedly watched him work. Whether he was aware that they were watching, they couldn't be sure. But how could they not look with the bright sunlight catching in his crystalline blue eyes, and in his hair and turning it to spun gold.

He'd truly spun them gold. Both of them. He was their spun gold.

"I feel like his shadow." Bucky said, drawing her back against him, his elbow still resting on the rail but his hand curling around her hip bone.

Natasha let her head fall back, knocking lightly on the place where his metal shoulder joined his flesh. "I know the feeling." she sighed, settling against him and letting the metal rake across the nape of her neck. The sharp sensation felt strangely comforting.

"Once upon a time he was my shadow. Smaller than me. Weaker. But he followed me everywhere. Followed me all the way to Europe. Now people follow him." Bucky looked down at her and smiled. 

"You follow him, too." she replied, bumping his scruffy chin with the bridge of her nose. "Just like I do."

Bucky just nodded, eyes darkening by a shade. "Now I'm his shadow. And his shadow is a terrible thing. His story is stained because of me."

She threaded their fingers together, feeling the strength of his hand and letting the sensation thrill over her frame raising goosebumps. But her eyes were still on Steve as he worked. "He casts two shadows now." she said softly, turning her head to kiss the hollow of Bucky's throat. "God help whoever comes for him next."

The grip of his hand tightened, and she swore she could feel her bones creak as he pushed his nose into her hair. The words tickled along her scalp when he spoke. "God help them, indeed."

Steve smiled up at them from the table once it was set. If he knew what they had been talking about, he gave no sign. "Hey guys! Dinner's getting cold." he called. Natasha and Bucky didn't need to be told twice, but they didn't bother to disentangle themselves before they made their way to the table.

Dinner was consumed with a healthy helping of bright, blithe conversation. Bucky and Steve swapped a seemingly unending series of war stories for Natasha, one filling in for the other when they would forget some detail or other that made the story funnier. And Bucky did tell the story about Steve rescuing him in Austria. All full of smiles and contagious laughter. 

It was heaven. This was a kind of heaven, Natasha decided. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't placid and without anxiety. But the pangs of guilt and want were answered with soft things in equal measure. The way Steve stared at Bucky made Natasha's chest hurt, for instance. But not as much as when he'd turn those adoring eyes on her, and she felt like he was looking straight through her. Just like it always had been. And Bucky too… He could truly see past all her shadows and past the blood and bodies. He didn't just refuse to see them as Steve sometimes did. He could actually look past them… Past all of that to the little girl, barely a teenager, who had pushed the hair out of his eyes just as a kindness.

The one moment of kindness he could remember at that time. The one that kept coming back to him even though they kept trying to take it away. The moment that defined her for him. It was kindness. Not her cruelty or her callous strategic thinking or her clever fingers wrapped around an assassin's weapon. No… it was her hand wrapped around kindness that had cut him no less keenly. Cut through all the programming and all the trauma. And when she'd forgotten… he kept the memory safe. He remembered who she was before she was the Black Widow, and he let her see it in his eyes every time he looked at her.

They talked and laughed so much that it took hours for them to finish dinner. The sun had gone from fully visible to completely set, winding down behind the mountains until the horizon was just a faint smudge of white capped peaks in the gathering dark. They talked as much as they ate. And laughed as much as they talked. It was easy. Like all three of them have been friends for years. 

But when the dishes were empty and the sun was fully set, Natasha heaved a sigh. "I should probably see about procuring a room for myself." She said, a twinge of regret in her tone.

Steve and Bucky spoke together, each asking a different question but meaning the same thing.

"You think?" Steve asked, arching one eyebrow.

Bucky's face drew up in a frown. "Why?"

"Cause…" Natasha stood a little more sharply than she meant to. "Cause…"

For a moment Steve looked like he was about to gently prod her. Find some oblique way to draw her back into their shared cocoon of stories and laughter, but Bucky spoke first.

"Stay." he said flatly, but not unkindly. "Stay, Natasha."

"I…"

"We're asking. Stop trying to parse it through."

"Unless you'd rather…" Steve offered, even though the words seemed bitter in his mouth. Bucky cut them off with a sock to the arm.

She lowered herself into her chair again, thumbing at the embroidery on her napkin. "I wouldn't rather. I just don't want to intrude."

Steve smiled then, eyes darting between them. "Bed then?" He suggested. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to pull the two of them around him against a wall of too many ornate pillows. Even if the sun was just barely gone. Even if the world was still awake. He was suddenly very very tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

"Bed." Bucky agreed, clearly on a similarly lazy train of thought.

"That does sound good." Natasha said with an uncharacteristically shy shrug.

They drifted to the bed as a single loosely tangled unit, full of curling fingers and grasping hands, and the occasional pair of wandering lips. They collapsed together on the soft mattress, sending a few of the pillows bouncing to the floor on either side. Steve took the middle, curling Bucky and Natasha under either arm. It all fell together on instinct, like they had out on the balcony. 

"Comfy?" Steve asked, and they all hummed their assent. They hadn't even bothered with the blanket or with changing clothes. Coiled together like this, they were going to be plenty warm and relaxed. Soaked through with old sunlight and something not unlike love.

They didn't talk anymore after they hit the bed. Words had fled in favor of the deeper eloquence found in touches. Natasha's fingers strayed to twist with Bucky's as they both painted slow caresses across the broad expanse of Steve's chest. Steve's hands eased up and down their flanks, his lips finding cheeks, the part of their hair, and lips…

They could taste each other, trading kisses like this, they realized. Trading breath and trading smiles and little slips of tongue over lips.

Something smouldered and sparked faintly. Something excited and hungry… But they were sleepy, and the sweetly lazy dark of fatigue pulled at all of them more insistently than their other desires. There would be time to find their way toward that flickering light. For now it was just enough that their breathing stretched and eased in tandem. Pulses slowed and eyes drooped. And it wasn't long before they were all fast asleep.

***

The sound of heaving, desperate breath woke Natasha from a deep and dreamless sleep. She blinked in the darkness, feeling the rising heat and hearing the panicked sounds in the bed with her. 

_In bed with her… wasn't… where was…_

_Oh right._

_Right._

"Bucky?"

She pressed herself up and looked over, expecting to find the ex-Winter Soldier thrashing in the clutches of a nightmare. Steve would probably already be awake trying to calm him if she had only just woken up. But no sooner had she pushed up off the pillow then Bucky sat bolt upright in the bed, his expression clear but confused.

They locked eyes in the dark for only half a breath and then looked between them.

It was Steve having the nightmare.

Even in the dim light, they could see the patina of sweat slicking his skin, his chest collapsing and expanding in rapid but near-fruitless succession as his head thrashed back and forth. His mouth worked forming no words, but Natasha felt herself give into the instinct to lean close and try to make something out.

"Steve." Bucky awkwardly grabbed for his hand and clutched it against his chest. "Steve!"

Natasha placed her hand on his convulsing chest, smoothing small circles. "Come on, Steve. Wake up." 

And his eyes opened, darting to Bucky first and trying desperately to resolve what they were seeing.

"Buck." he breathed the word. 

"Hey," Bucky cracked a smile, even though his worried eyes stayed fixed on Steve. "Take it easy, punk." 

The tease… the nicknames… it came out so easy, here in the hallowed dark. Natasha almost felt it like a slap in the face, even though she knew she shouldn't.

_She shouldn't be here,_ her brain betrayed her by thinking.

But Steve defied her mind, clutching at her hand and Bucky's too against his still heaving chest. She shared another look with Bucky… apprehension mixed with worry flickering across her face and finding answering concerns in his. His eyes, the color of steel in the sparse light, told her to stay. That Steve needed her. That he wanted her here… that _Bucky_ wanted her here. That he didn't want to handle this alone. And so she stayed. 

Steve had to swallow twice before he was able to speak. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, guys… give me a sec." He crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, trailed only by Bucky and Natasha's eyes. A few seconds later they heard the sound of running water and creaking cabinets.

"Is that new?" Bucky asked, looking sidelong at Natasha before fixing his eyes on the bathroom again.

"I've caught him awake a few times looking like he'd seen a ghost. But never seen one that bad." she admitted. "But… he's been through a lot lately."

Their eyes met again, and they traded that silent conversation once more.

_"Do I need to go?"_

_"Stay."_

Natasha tried to promise herself it would be the last time. But she also didn't like to make a habit of lying to herself.

Steve emerged a moment later, still dabbing at his neck with a towel.

"Sorry." he said to the the tile floor as he stood in the doorway. 

Neither of them answered him. They were all well past the point of chiding apologies or sugar-coated reassurances. They just stretched out their hands, with Bucky balanced awkwardly on one hip, and pulled Steve back into bed between them.

He hit the pillow facing Natasha and a profound relief washed over his features that stole Natasha's breath. He slipped his arms around her waist and a moment later she felt Bucky's hand chasing up behind to cover them both. They moved together like water, pulling her into the circle of their arms until she thought she might drown in the sensation.

She would have the best time drowning like this. Drowning in nothing more than being wanted.

Steve wasted no time in kissing her, his mouth hot and needy against hers as his tongue snaked along a familiar path between her teeth. It all felt so easy and free… just as it always had. But she could feel Bucky moving along Steve's back and she looked up to see him nosing behind Steve's ear, his clever tongue tracing the arch of it just so. His eyes met hers and he smiled wickedly, baring his teeth and raking them along the shell of his ear.

Steve moaned into her parted lips at the sharper sensation, and the rawness sound and the sensation of it as it seeped into her bones shook something loose from her. All tentative pretense was gone. Melted in the hot forge of tangled bedclothes and grasping hands. She curled around Steve, winding their bodies so tightly together and finding Bucky everywhere she reached. And she clung to them both.

Steve broke the kiss with Natasha to seek Bucky's lips next. The questing arch of his neck bared the sweetly convulsing column of his neck to Natasha so she did the only sensible thing and began pressing a line of open mouthed kisses against his pulse. Bucky watched with rapt attention as she tucked her kisses and little kittenish licks into the shadows of his throat as Steve plundered his mouth. And with his eyes, Bucky asked a question as surely as if he'd spoken the words.

_Are we doing this?_

And just like that, everything shifted. Like a change in the air before a thunderstorm. Subtle but nearly hairraising in its urgency. 

They were all undeniably awake now. The spark that had kindled shortly before they had succumbed to sleep now fanned to new flame. They all felt it together, and drew a heady breath of the newly laden air between them in tandem. Eyes darted from face to face seeking confirmation that they weren't imagining or misreading anything. 

Desirous as she was feeling, Natasha felt her spine instinctively curling to give a little distance. Already one leg had drawn back to counterbalance a fast roll out of bed if she needed to give them space. Once again she was ready to be told to take her leave. All without any sort of higher thought on her part.

But Bucky was Bucky. His mind might be his own, but that HYDRA training hadn't gone anywhere. He felt the shift of gravity as well as the shift of her weight on the mattress and he hooked his ankle around Natasha's wandering calf.

"Tell us what you want, Steve." Bucky said, drawing her closer to blanket Steve's side. He wasn't looking at Steve as he spoke. His steely eyes were practically incandescent in the dark, and they bored straight into Natasha's.

_Don't go._

There was another exchange of uncertain glances, but Natasha followed Bucky's pull when she felt Steve's body ripple between them. She was still unsure of anything but her own desires, but just as she'd learned to give herself over to Steve's lead, perhaps she could do the same with Bucky. 

Steve managed to find his voice, overwhelmed when he seemed to instinctively realize he could have both. "Please." was the only actual word spoken, but it said volumes. As did his hands, which pulled and clung to every part of them he could reach.

Natasha and Bucky set to work in a strange sort of synchronicity, peeling Steve's clothes off and pouring a font of feather-light kisses over every inch of skin they uncovered. Occasionally, their noses would bump and Bucky would insist on kissing her lips, and after awhile Natasha began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose just so he could lick the taste of Steve's skin from her tongue. And Steve was far from passive. His hands found their way under the hem of Natasha's shirt, palming her breasts as Bucky's kisses slowly turned into little bites across the flat of the nape of his neck.

"Off… clothes off, please. Both of you." Steve begged, already pulling at loose fistfuls of Natasha's shirt. "I want to see." And she obliged him, pulling her shirt over her head and showing off the lovely arch of her back as she did so. As Bucky pushed up to his knees, his shirt came off in a single practiced motion, making his muscles flex and ripple. And his eyes smouldered in the dark, hot and bright until suddenly he froze, shirt still in hand.

And eyes, suddenly gone cold and still, locked on a spot on Natasha's stomach, just to the side of her navel. And then they flicked sharply another place on her shoulder.

Natasha didn't need to look down to know he'd seen the marks. His marks. The rounded little smudges of scar tissue… still pink with newness, but probably washed to silver in the dim moonlight that seeped across the bed. Both marks from him. The only scars she had. He'd trained a gun on her with those flat, cold eyes, and pulled the trigger. Twice. And he was watching it… somewhere inside the divide of his skull. She could see it playing across his face, like there was a film reel behind his eyes. 

She pulled herself up to lean over Steve and caught Bucky's hand. He dropped the shirt and let her press his fingers against the marks on her shoulder. 

Her left shoulder too. Huh. She hadn't thought of that before now.

He painted the pads of his fingers over the mark. "Does it hurt?" he felt himself ask, lips quivering as he tasted her words in his mouth.

She shook her head, her nose brushing against the scruff of his jawline. "Not anymore, Bucky." she said before pulling him to her. "Touch me." Their lips lingered close but didn't meet, panting the same humid air as their hands wandered a little. Finding things to touch that didn't have shared memories of pain and violence. Natasha was lost to it. The gentleness. The reverence. The sheer want that had his fingers trembling as he slid them up to twist one of her nipples. And that had her diving for his mouth, licking over his tongue with a wet, needy moan.

The soft sound of Steve's breathing drew them back out of their little bubble of recollection and reconciliation. They both looked down to see him with his hand loosely fisted around his cock, eyes glazed and full lips parted as he shamelessly watched them. They both swooned a little at the sight, hips and shoulders knocking gently together.

"Don't stop on my account." Steve said, his voice whispery and breathless at the edges.

Natasha and Bucky locked eyes again, matching smirks curling their mouths. 

"He wants a show." Bucky remarked, with a quirk of an eyebrow. "That's new."

"You can blame me for that, I think." Natasha replied, hooking her fingers in Bucky's waistband and pulling him flush with her body again. From hip to sternum to nose to forehead, both of them arched together over Steve, and Bucky stole the opportunity for one more filthy kiss. As if in reply, her palm flattened against the stiff bulge in Bucky's shorts. "May I?" she asked, a sly smile coiled in her voice.

Bucky barely had enough air to answer her. Her boldness had chased his breath from him, though not his ability to be cocky. "By all means, Ms. Romanoff." he managed, still somehow keeping the sly arch of his brow.

"Watch it, soldier." she teased, fingers already working the drawstring on the sleep shorts, shoving them down. His flushed cock slapped against his stomach when she freed it, the head already glistening precome as she started to stroke the underside with just her knuckles.

Bucky convulsed at the sensation, mouth falling open as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. He leaned into her, chasing more sensation with tight little rolls of his hips. Natasha wrapped one arm around him and looked down at Steve, who was now utterly wrecked by the sight. His whole arm flexed as he worked his length in slow, dragging strokes, and Natasha mirrored them, as if she were a puppet on a string. A delighted, teasing proxy.

"Look at him, Bucky. Turn so he can see your face." Natasha crooned into Bucky's hair, making him turn his head. "He's loving this. He's loving watching you."

"Steve…" was all Bucky could muster as he looked down at Steve with lust-blown eyes. He was nothing short of rutting into Natasha's fist, his whole body rolling in fluid undulations that matched and shamelessly chased the rhythm of her hand.

The air shifted again, and Natasha could feel herself instinctively tightening her hand on the reins. Bucky was letting her play him like a harp, hand in his hair to bare his throat as she stroked him. Holding him open from her so Steve could see what she was doing. How she was stroking him so slowly, root to tip to milk out the sweetest sounds along with slow dribbles of sticky precome. But everything felt deliciously precarious. Like one of them would lose patience at any second and throw her down on the bed to have their turn. And she would let them...

But for now...

"He's so hard, Steve." she purred hooking one finger under Bucky's chin and forcing him to look up at her. "Such a hard, slick mess. I could make him come so easily, I bet."

"Don't." the word was little more than a harsh pant of breath from Steve.

"You want him like this?" Natasha teased.

"I want both of you."

"Oooh. Greedy." she replied with an arched brow. "Did you hear that Bucky?" she paused to catch her teeth on his ear as she twisted her wrist on the next upstroke. "He likes you like this. Was he always like this?"

"Always." Steve rumbled out a reply. "I couldn't get enough of Bucky when he was out of his mind like this. And it was so easy."

"He called you easy, Bucky." Natasha teased, nibbling the words out against the shell of his ear as he shook in her grip.

"For him I always was." Bucky ground out. "Punk." The word was little more than a curl of lips and this time, Natasha wanted to eat both the nickname and the smirk from his mouth. 

"He loved when I'd suck his cock." Steve supplied, the plush curve of his mouth curling into a goading smile. "God, the sounds he made..."

As if in answer, Bucky moaned aloud, head falling back and making Natasha grab him around the waist to keep him pressed against her. He was still leaking profusely, and Natasha smeared it down his length, over and over again keeping everything slick and sensitive.

But she pretended not to notice. "That so?" she replied coyly, catching on in earnest that these boys really liked a good exhibition. And feeling confident she could give them that if nothing else, she arched her back, inviting Bucky's hand to have free reign over her breasts. Which he took immediate advantage of, with fingers and lips alike. 

"Mmm… How did he like it, Steve?" She asked as she hooked the fingers of her free hand behind his head, forcing Bucky to look at her with his hooded eyes as he licked over one of her nipples. 

"Slow." Steve breathed the word with a curl of lips that made Bucky groan against her skin. "You wanna work him up… you wanna drive him crazy, you go slow. You… you curl your tongue up under him and just… nice and slow. I could make him beg back in the day."

Natasha pouted her kiss swollen lips before turning to Bucky. The man in her grip was so strung out on pleasure he could barely stay upright. Her grin grew as she steadied his hand on her shoulder, folded herself in half with her hands on either side of his knees. And with little more than a fleeting smirk, she sucked the flushed head of his cock into her mouth. 

Bucky made a beautiful, strangled sound deep in his throat as his fingers dug into Natasha's shoulder. She held him there, halfway into her mouth and feeling him throb and twitch between her teeth, before letting him slip out again so she could lave the head of his cock with broad strokes from the flat of her tongue.

"What does she feel like, Buck?" Steve asked hoarsely, his hand still working over his length in slow strokes that matched the caress of her mouth over Bucky's cock..

Bucky had to lick his lips twice to answer. "Hot... God, her mouth is so hot… what… what does she look like?"

It was Steve's turn to make a choked, delicious sound. Natasha took a peek out of the corner of her eyes, before looking up at Bucky. They were both looking at her like they might devour her if given half the chance, and it made something low and hot within her positively preen. She angled her head so they both could see, a thin dribble of saliva trickling out from where her lips sealed around the girth of Bucky's cock again. She sucked him deep, as far as she could take him as she curled her tongue against the fat throbbing vein.

Just a few sucks like that and his hips stuttered and started, and Bucky groaned again in response. Natasha could already feel him tensing, the pressure building as his cock kicked and spasmed against her back teeth. She pulled back, trailing a line of spit as she looked up at him. They locked eyes, Bucky making sweet, desperate sounds as she began to lick up the length of his shaft in low, languid strokes.

"Jesus, fuck, Steve." Bucky whined, stomach muscles contracting with the effort of keeping still. "I… please…"

"Please what?" Steve taunted, his own hand not slowing even as Natasha had eased up.

"I want to see you fuck her." he had to prise the words out of his panting throat. "And I want to fuck you while you do it."

Natasha swiveled her head to catch Steve's eye as she kissed her way down Bucky's cock. Were they doing this? Because she wanted to. Now that she was floating on the rush of putting on a show for them, a thousand positions, emotions, and desires flickered through her brain as though she were thumbing through a deck of cards. Steve had gotten her more acquainted with her wants, but now the floodgates were wide open and she was drowning in them.

Drowning in absolutely the best way.

Steve's hazy, sex-addled gaze flickered between them for a moment before he just settled on nodding. Natasha straightened herself carefully, keeping Bucky steady as he slumped against her shoulder again, hips chasing the slow drag of her hand on his cock again. "How do you want us, Steve?"

Steve answered by taking both their hands and pulling them down to bracket him on either side once more. Lips met skin instantly, kissing shoulders, breasts, and licking fingers as they settled together. As if they couldn't stand to be apart any longer than they absolutely had to be. Now that the dam was broken there was no going back. 

Natasha felt the bed shift and looked up to see Bucky rolling his back to dig around in the nightstand drawer. Presumably to get lube, she guessed. Emboldened, Natasha grabbed Steve's hand and pressed it between her legs as she hooked her calf around both him and Bucky. "Get me ready for you, Steve." she pleaded, her voice smoky and dark. 

And of course he obliged her. He had never denied her anything… at least not for long, and he wasn't about to start now. He disentangled from her grip for only as long as it took for him to paint two fingers with his saliva in order to slip them inside her. Not that he needed to. She was practically dripping with want just from working Bucky up so expertly. In fact, Steve could still taste him on her tongue as he practically devoured her from the mouth down. 

Natasha lifted her leg higher, drawing Steve's thick fingers in past the second knuckle. Her head fell back, baring the white length of her throat.

"Now who's greedy?" he teased with his lips on her pulse, the last word breaking off unexpectedly into a breathy moan. 

Natasha caught sight of Bucky's eyes over Steve's shoulder, and saw the gentle give and flex of his arm and shoulder. It stole her breath as it had clearly stolen Steve's. 

"You." Bucky purred into his ear. "Look at you, all stretched out between us. Your fingers in her and my fingers in you… and you just can't get enough, can you?"

Steve's eyes cinched shut. Natasha couldn't see exactly what Bucky was doing, but from the looks flickering across Steve's face, it was something utterly filthy. She'd imagine, but Steve was not letting his own pleasure distract him from the task at hand. His fingers were working in sinuous, sinful little circles over and over the spot buried deep in her pussy. The one that sent sparks out to dance behind her eyes. Made her muscles clench, and her breath come in nothing but sharp, useless pants.

She grabbed at his elbow and pulled, driving him even deeper. And some movement from Bucky sent him rippling against her. His thick cock, flushed a handsome red, dragged slowly over the plane of her stomach leaving a sticky trail. She'd drenched his hand by this point, and the frictionless slip of his fingers over that sweet spot had her pulse jumping in the back of her throat. 

Suddenly, the edge was there and she was tipping forward. Steve felt it. Felt her slick inner walls shudder and convulse as he continued to work her with a delicious beckoning motion. She caught Bucky's eye, and spied the hungry glint there as he watched her begin to come undone. He wasn't touching her. Just looking at her. But Natasha was suddenly awash in a sensation of utmost possession. The sensation of Steve's hands, and Bucky's eyes, and of being so fiercely and wonderfully wanted. He kissed Steve's neck as he watched, and Steve kissed her lips and suddenly she was lost to the electric rush that rippled out just under her skin. 

They ebbed and flowed together like that for uncounted moments. Exploring… preparing… whispering fantasies… trading breaths and gasps and broken moans until finally Steve's resolve cracked clean down the middle.

"Please." he begged, his voice wrecked and breathy as he pushed his hips back against Bucky's hand.

"You ready?" Bucky asked, clearly speaking to both of them, and they nodded vigorously. "Then I'll go first."

It took Bucky a minute to get positioned, on account of only having one arm. But once he was comfortable, he lined himself up and took hold of Steve's hip.

And Natasha felt the air change again. A sudden but not jarring shift of command. It felt natural. It felt right. Every shift and change between them as they shared control felt seamless and just… right… The bit and bridle was between her teeth now, as well as Steve's. And the flinty look in Bucky's eyes told her he knew it, and that she should just go with it. Because it was her turn for a bit of a show.

"Look at her, Steve." he instructed, nose against the nape of Steve's neck, his face half hidden in his golden hair. "Let her see how much you enjoy this. Let her see how easy you are for me." Bucky's hand, wiped clean on a sheet had come up to cradle his throat pushing his head back so that she could see every expression that flickered across his face. 

Natasha flashed Bucky an answering smirk before locking her eyes on Steve's face. He looked different than he did with her… so relaxed and pliable. Comfortable even as he was curled back over Bucky's shoulder with his heaving chest drawn into a beautiful arch. She couldn't manipulate him like this. Hold him. Restrain him. Push and pull and squeeze. She hadn't the strength. But Bucky did…

She could tell the exact second Bucky began to press into him. Steve's face went slack and his eyes, nearly all pupil at that point, slid closed. His plush lips, rosy from kisses and teeth, parted in the prettiest, panting little "oh" that seemed to stretch even past the point that he'd run out of air to fuel it. Bucky held him there, arm across his chest and hand gently possessing his convulsing throat as he tried to find room for breath.

Natasha reached up and cradled his face, tracing the plump curve of his bottom lip as she watched him go utterly boneless between them. And with her other hand she gripped his cock, feeling it kick against her palm and pulse out another bead of precome at the combined sensation. "You look so good like this." she told him.

Steve buried his face in her neck and Bucky let him. "I want you." he whined.

Natasha looked over his shoulder again to meet Bucky's eyes. She didn't want to steal his thunder… his moment of thoroughly wrecking Steve. "He wants you, Natasha." Bucky prompted, snapping her instantly out of the anxious haze that had begun to creep in. "Or are you in the habit of keeping him waiting?"

She shook her head with a hint of a grin, hitching her leg a little higher. Bucky caught her at the knee, holding the three of them flush together. She had to line him up against her entrance as Steve seemed unable to do anything but cling to the both of them and desperately pant against her cheek.

Sliding down onto him felt amazing. Better somehow for Bucky's intense eyes watching every expression that crossed her face. And his vise-like grip on her thigh, melding them so each felt every individual gasp and tremor and moan. As if they were one creature meant only for experiencing pleasure. And for giving it. 

Not for pain. Not for violence. Not for complicated plans and contingencies. Was that ever what they were? No, they were this. This beautiful sprawl of limbs and fevered moaning. There was no plan past their joining. Just the incessant chase of pleasure, whether their own or someone else's. And was there any difference at this point?

When they'd all caught her breath, Bucky began to move them. It began as a slow, rolling circle of his hips, each movement sending Steve's cock jutting up for Natasha to ride. Breathing turned to hisses and then to keening moans. Hands gripped and lips turned hungry. Their desperate cries rose in tandem, cresting with each languid thrust.

Their entwined dance was positively incendiary. Natasha could feel her blood pounding, answering the heartbeats she seemed to be able to feel everywhere. Against her tongue as she licked into Bucky's mouth over Steve's shoulder, and against her chest as Steve crushed her against his ribs, and deep inside her where her own pulse fluttered over the insistent throb of Steve's cock buried to the hilt inside her.

"I'm not going to last…" Steve moaned, his voice thin and distressed.

"Make me come again, Steve." Natasha begged, her hands on his face again as she watched the pleasure chase across his chiseled features. It softened them somehow. And yet she was still certain she would cut her tongue if she ran it along his jaw. Beard or no. 

"Do it." Bucky ground the words out between gritted teeth. "I want to watch. I want to come when she does. I nearly did before. You didn't tell me she was so pretty, Steve. That she opens that sweet mouth and moans like she's dying."

Natasha would have never guessed that sex would make Bucky so chatty. But she loved it. Loved every velvety honeyed word whispered against the galloping pulse of Steve's throat while his eyes shone like knives in the close and hallowed darkness.

"I'm so close." she whimpered, her hand finding Bucky's waist and pulling him deeper into Steve and sending him rippling against her body. Steve's mouth dropped open again as he groaned. His hands found her breasts. Found both nipples and rolled them, aligning a new circuit of pleasure in her body. She whined high in her throat and spasmed, sending one of Bucky's thrusts rippling back to him.

"Yes…" he let the word out on a hiss as they caught a new rhythm, hips snapping in tandem as they chased every sensation that was offered.

The edge was there again suddenly. No long process. No careful building or layering of sensation. The precipice was just there and with both their hands on her and the steady pistoning of Steve's cock deep inside her pussy she was tipping farther and farther. Just a little more… just a little more… unable to stop herself until the pleasure blossomed up and caught her up in its wake. 

Bucky was slamming into Steve, giving her a delicious rhythm to ride as her orgasm cascaded through her. The clutch of her muscles caught Steve by surprise, and he was shooting into her, hands holding onto her hips tight enough to bruise. She wanted these bruises. From both of them.

And that got Bucky in turn, watching her arch and feeling Steve spasming around his cock. His rhythm stuttered and his body tightened like a drawn bow. He bent back, digging in fingers and baring his teeth in a silent scream as he emptied himself into Steve's languid body.

And for a single, beautiful breath, they all hung there suspended in their shared ecstasy. Hips grinding and stuttering as they chased each shimmering arc of shared pleasure. There might have been words, or breathless attempts at words. But truly it was a useless endeavor. There was no encapsulating this… no expressing the want and the relief and the pure joy of that moment.

They didn't move apart once they had begun to wind back down. Things turned slick and sticky and soft, but they didn't pull away from each other. Hands still clutched, but more gently. Mouths still wandered but with less teeth. Hips still moved but with less urgency. Breathing slowed and hearts gradually came back into rhythm.

But no one moved. 

Natasha and Bucky stared at each other over Steve's shoulder. The moment… the reality of what they'd just shared came to rest as they both caressed Steve. He was pliable as he laid between them, preening and stretching in the their afterglow. She pushed up, leaning across to meet him and draping over Steve like a blanket. Bucky pulled her to him with an easy familiarity, and they all puddled up together, taking turns kissing each other, kissing Steve. Still close. Still touching at every point they could.

Some very distant part of Natasha's brain whispered again that she should go. That this was not hers to share. But now she answered it with a look. Just a look at the two blissed out men in bed with her who were staring back at her with heavy-lidded eyes like she'd given them the world.

They'd given each other the world, she decided. And she should stay, because this was her world now. No more Avengers. No more SHIELD. No more Strike Team Delta or KGB or anything. There was nothing outside of this bed, and the liquid, bone-deep ecstasy flowing lazily through her limbs.

"Well, if I didn't need a shower before, I definitely do now." Steve grumbled, the words sticky and humid on Natasha’s sweat-damp skin.

"Agreed." Bucky huffed, rolling out of bed to stand up on legs that were still not too sure about holding him upright just yet. But he managed, pulling the other two after him towards the ridiculously opulent shower.

They were quick about washing up, though their shower was not without its share of kisses and caresses, though none designed to arouse or enflame. Just the easy comfort of assurance. Of trading. Of equality and presence. Natasha didn't even bother with her hair, considering how long it took to dry. Though she marked to herself that at some point she wanted to wash Bucky's. And Steve's. And have the favor repaid in kind. That sounded like another wonderful little corner of this heaven that she wanted to explore.

Once back in bed, she resettled herself in the crook of Steve's arm and Bucky mirrored her on the opposite side. Steve had already started to drift off again, eyes falling closed as soon as he was on his back and sinking into the pillows.

"What were you dreaming about?" Bucky asked, voice already a little thick with sleep.

"Mm?"

"What were you dreaming about?" he repeated. "The nightmare."

"Oh." Steve said, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "Seems… seems silly now."

Natasha propped her chin on his chest and waited for the answer.

"Just… you were both back in the cryo chambers. And I… the lab was empty. I couldn't find anyone to tell me when you were going to wake up. Or if you were… And I just started pounding my fists on the glass trying to smash them open so I could get to you." He paused and shook his head. "Like I said… Seems silly now."

Bucky awkwardly pushed himself up to lay a quick kiss on Steve's lips, which Natasha followed with one of her own. Steve had turned his head even before she'd moved, like he was expecting it which made something sleepy but terribly satisfied turn over somewhere down deep in her heart. Her hand tangled with Bucky's on Steve's chest almost as if on autopilot. They both stared at their entwined fingers and then at each other, with drowsy lidded eyes.

But a keenness still shone through. Steve was halfway to being dead to the world once more, but they were still awake to make promises.

One more time, the now feeble voice in Natasha's head advised her. _Go… go now…_

But it was silenced with no more than the sound of Steve's breathing and the look in Bucky's eyes. And with a kiss laid across his scarred knuckles.They were not perfect people. But this did not require perfection. They would settle their scores, pay their debts, and wipe out their ledgers, and somehow keep Steve out of… well, most of the trouble he would undoubtedly find. But the important part was that they would do it together. 

And that would just be that.

***


	10. Epilogue: Distance is Ended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Good morning, Steve." T'Challa greeted. "Sorry for disturbing you, but there is something of a... situation and I was wondering if you might be willing to be of assistance to myself and my diplomats."
> 
> "Sure." Steve said, blinking hard and trying not to smack at the taste of his own morning breath. "What's going on?"
> 
> "There has been an incident at the Wakandan embassy in Paris. It is not time sensitive as we are still investigating the situation, but it is a matter of utmost importance to Wakandan security." T'Challa went on. "Sam Wilson has been contacted and is enroute as you might need aerial supp- I… see the three of you have settled into your accommodations nicely."
> 
> Steve looked back over his shoulder and saw what T'Challa was seeing; Bucky and Natasha pooled together against the pillows over his bare shoulder. He just smirked and shook his head at the fact that he'd already lost his space in bed to Natasha who had curled herself into a ball against Bucky's side in his absence with her cheek resting against his artificial shoulder. And he'd tucked his face into the crook of her neck, hiding his eyes from the late morning sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... here we are! The end at last, or at least the end of this fic. Apologies for this final installment being late. Life has really HAPPENED this weekend so I got behind on my prep. This is by no means the end of this series. I've got at least three more single-chapter installments kicking around with more plot bunnies waiting in the wings. There's a Christmas fic that will be out a little before Christmas, a Natasha/Bucky centric fic, and another post Infinity War Steve/Natasha fic. Also I've got to go back and do some editing/updating on the fic that follows this one in the series "What Strength I Have's Mine Own" because... yeah... wasn't exactly planning on making a whole series out of this when I wrote it. Certainly not one that involved Bucky and all this craziness.
> 
> Also in the works for me is a Darcy/Loki fic due out this time next week, and a Darcy/Eddie/Venom fic that's about half finished. I'm hoping to start publishing that after the new year. 
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for beta reading all of this. If you haven't already, go give him a follow on Tumblr and on Twitch. (you might even catch me on his Twitch channel on Tuesday nights!)
> 
> And thank you to iaintnosidekick for the wonderful mood board I've been using. Seriously, I was so touched. Give them a follow as well!
> 
> And lastly but definitely not leastly... thank YOU for reading. I've gotten so much great feedback about this fic and I can't tell you how wonderful that's been. So thank you thank you thank you! And if you're interested in more, make sure you subscribe to the series! 
> 
> Enjoy and I'll see you again soon!

" " 

* * *

***

_The single star among the myriad of stars_  
_Stands stedfast at the end of night_  
_Over love's earthly house._

_Distance is ended._

***

A soft but insistently ringing chime woke the three of them sometime well after sunrise. Or more accurately, it woke Steve. Natasha and Bucky might've murmured in their sleep, but they did nothing more than sink further into the pile of pillows, tangled limbs and rumpled bedclothes.

Steve huffed out a contented sigh as he half sat up, reaching across Bucky to procure his tablet and blearily unlock it. He stretched a little into the motion, enjoying the sleepy, languid ache he felt all over. It was almost enough to pull him back down onto the pillows, but when T'Challa's face appeared on the screen, he disentangled his limbs and pulled himself upright.

"Good morning, Steve." T'Challa greeted. "Sorry for disturbing you, but there is something of a... situation and I was wondering if you might be willing to be of assistance to myself and my diplomats."

"Sure." Steve said, blinking hard and trying not to smack at the taste of his own morning breath. "What's going on?"

"There has been an incident at the Wakandan embassy in Paris. It is not time sensitive as we are still investigating the situation, but it is a matter of utmost importance to Wakandan security." T'Challa went on. "Sam Wilson has been contacted and is enroute as you might need aerial supp- I… see the three of you have settled into your accommodations nicely."

Steve looked back over his shoulder and saw what T'Challa was seeing; Bucky and Natasha pooled together against the pillows over his bare shoulder. He just smirked and shook his head at the fact that he'd already lost his space in bed to Natasha who had curled herself into a ball against Bucky's side in his absence with her cheek resting against his artificial shoulder. And he'd tucked his face into the crook of her neck, hiding his eyes from the late morning sun. Even half asleep they were both still chasing warmth and sensation. He turned back to the prince doing his best to look sheepish. "Give us fifteen minutes and we'll be downstairs." he said.

"Twenty." Bucky corrected from behind him, not bothering to open his eyes. And judging from the timbre of his voice, he'd been awake at least the whole time… probably longer. Just languishing in their nest of togetherness.

Natasha frowned at the words but didn't open her eyes either. In fact she buried her face even deeper against his chest. "Coffee?" Her voice was significantly rougher. All the talking had probably only just woken her up.

"Coffee." Bucky confirmed, pulling her tight across him.

Steve laughed to himself before turning bashful eyes back to T'Challa. "Yeah, better make it twenty. If it's not too much of a wrench in the works."

The prince smiled goodnaturedly. "As I said, it is not time sensitive. And after what you three have been through in the past few weeks… I think I can allow you coffee before I throw you out the door on a mission. Could I speak with you while your… compatriots assemble themselves? There are some equipment logistics that I do want to get down to Shuri right away."

"Sure. Just give me a minute and I'll head out on the balcony to talk." Steve awkwardly rolled out of bed in such a way as not to disturb Bucky and Natasha. He pulled on a pair of sleep shorts that turned out to be Bucky's and wandered out into the morning sun, tablet in hand.

Bucky's next breath heaved out in a sigh that fluffed Natasha's hair. "He always was an early riser."

"Mmf…" she grunted. "Preaching to the choir on that one."

"Am I?" Bucky smiled into a kiss that he pressed to the crown of her head as he curled himself around her. 

"Oh yeah." Natasha pushed up to prop her chin on his chest. "He keeps trying to make me a morning person."

"Trying?"

"He succeeds…" her mouth curled into a sly smile. "By some definition."

"I remember that." Bucky said, flopping over onto his back, tugging Natasha with him like a favorite blanket. "Even before the serum."

A grin pulled her lips when she felt the ample arch of his hardened cock tuck into the hollow of her hip. Bucky did his best to look somewhat contrite, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth at the contact, and looking up at her through his dark lashes. But the display only served to make him look coquettish. 

"Ah, so Steve did succeed in making you a morning person, I see." she teased, rolling her hips slightly to give him just a bit more friction.

"No, that's all for you, I'm afraid, seeing as he's already off to save the world." He gave an answering arch against her frame, and she could feel him stiffening further as the added pressure worked him up.

"Mmm…" she hummed, replacing the inexpert touch of her hip with the exacting caress of her fingers.

Bucky's head fell back against the pillow with a soft thud as he collapsed onto his back. "Fuck…" he whispered, and Natasha kissed the curse from his lips.

"You're both incorrigible." She laughed. A throaty, satisfied sound.

Bucky bit his lip again as he grabbed her elbow, encouraging her without words to keep touching him. "Tell me what he's like." he ground out between gasps. "In the mornings. With you."

Natasha's smile grew teeth as she pumped him with infuriating gentleness. She really would have never pegged Bucky for a talker. Then again, she hadn't thought about him in this capacity at all. Even her own assumptions were a surprise. 

She tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear, tracing his temple and watching him follow the motion with a keen glint in his eye. She leaned down close and whispered softly, the words coming out as feathery caresses against the shell of his ear. "When Steve is sleepy… when he first wakes up and his inhibitions haven't kicked on yet… he just likes to take." Natasha pressed on Bucky's artificial shoulder, pushing him flat to the bed when he sought to curl around her. "He'll grab me," She tightened her hand on his cock, giving it a long, languid squeeze that seemed to wring all the air from his body. "And just push me down onto the bed, and climb on top. He won't even bother with getting my pajamas off. He just _wants._ " 

Here she swung her leg across his waist, letting the head of his cock brush along her stomach, painting it with a slick stripe of precome. One hand was still firmly clasped around his shaft, and the other pressed down on his sternum. She couldn't hold him to the bed. Not even with all her strength, but he relaxed under the press of her hand easy as anything. And that made something pleased and hungry coil and preen itself in the cage of her ribs.

"Natasha…" he pleaded, his hand smoothing up her thigh to find a grip at the crease of her hip.

She gave him a fake petulant little pout. "Begging already?"

"You would be too."

"Thought you wanted me to tell you about Steve." She gave a filthy little twist of her wrist on the next downstroke. "You sure that's what you want?"

He licked his lips rather forcefully as if his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. And he deliberated for a moment before he took a long, steadying breath. "Tell me…" he ground the words out.

She smirked and leaned forward, bracing herself on her elbow so that her face hovered close to his, and more importantly, the flushed lips of her pussy caressed the length of his cock. He looked ready to vibrate out of his skin at the contact with her already slickened flesh.

"He always tells me that I'm so tight in the morning." she whispered, her lips ghosting along the curve of his ear. "Especially if he completely fucked me out the previous night. And let's be honest, if I'm waking up in his bed, this is almost certainly the case." Bucky made an inarticulate sound deep in his throat that made Natasha lean even closer, sneaking the tip of her tongue out to trace along the hollow of his throat. She gave another languorous full body roll, like a cat stretching in the sun. The hot flesh between her legs dragged over his throbbing cock making him bite back another moan. 

"Do you want to feel?" she asked sweetly, nipping at his bottom lip.

Bucky nodded, wide-eyed with pupils blown with want. "Please…"

It crossed her mind to tease him when he begged. It crossed her mind to draw this out. To find his breaking point. Did he have one? What would he do when she found it? Would he throw her down like Steve never really did? She couldn't deny the thrill that gave her. But the look on his face made everything in her want to give him every last thing he ever wanted. Whether it was her mouth or her hands or her body or even just a kind word...

She took him in a firm grip and slid herself down onto his considerable length in one smooth, unhurried motion. It was a tight stretch. Perhaps a bit too fast, but the look on his face chased any sane thought about herself from her mind. His eyes fell closed and his mouth dropped open with a sweet whimper, and her heart was suddenly like a bird beating itself half to death against its reflection in a window. No sooner was she seated flush on his pelvis then she set herself to a rolling sinuous rhythm, working her hips over him and chasing the delicious sounds he was making with a serpentine sway. Anything to keep his face doing what it was doing. His mouth working in a sweet, soundless exclamation of joy that seemed to wind and renew with every downward thrust.

He was exquisite like this. All the hard lines gone from his face. Just an open expression and bright slate-colored eyes staring up at her from under the fringe of his hair. She reached out and pushed it out of his face again. And as always he followed the motion, and kissed her palm, his gaze never breaking from hers as his hips answered every roll and thrust of her own. 

This was a thing. This was their thing. They had a thing like a couple in some saccharine romance movie. A gesture that didn't have words but spoke volumes about who they were. Who they had been. Who they were going to be. Together and apart. They had that. Easy as anything. Just like that.

Bucky pressed another kiss to her palm, this one wet and full of teeth. She sank her hand into his hair and pulled him up so she could taste his mouth for herself. Kissing him was so different from Steve. Even when he was being gentle, Bucky still kissed with an edge, be it a touch of teeth or a press of hands. It was delicious and delightful in its own way, communicating want and hunger with an entirely new vocabulary of touch.

The pursuing roll of his hips turned sharper, and his tighter thrusts begged her to ride him harder. The thought crossed her mind again to be a tease. To make him chase her farther and thrust harder. But the look on his face... The utter wanting laid bare across his puckered brow, and parted, kiss-stained mouth, and heaving chest... it laid waste to any desire to taunt. At least for now.

She could feel her own pleasure winding tightly around and around the expression on his face. A face that for the longest she'd only ever seen in cold calculating malice. Now here he was as pliant as a lamb and as flushed as a teenager at a school dance. Maybe sometime she would be a tease. Maybe sometime she would pin him to the bed, or pretend she could anyway. Or perhaps she could have Steve hold him while she sucked him off. Then he could struggle and beg all he wanted and there wasn't a thing in the world that-

"Natasha, please…" he whispered, his grip tightening on her hip. The plea cut through her thoughts like a white hot knife, igniting the fuse on her arousal. She hadn't realized until that moment how close she'd let herself get. Stars burst across her vision as she ground herself down onto his thick cock over and over, coming with a thin, reedy moan and a luxuriating arch of her back.

Bucky's fingers dug in at the sensation of her inner walls squeezing around him. Two more stuttering thrusts, and he was lost too, shooting into the clenching heat of her body as he whispered her name against her skin.

Natasha dropped down onto her elbows, pressing their sweat dampened foreheads together. The air grew humid between them as they labored to catch their breaths. "I need another shower." she said, the words faltering between heaves of air.

"Me too." Bucky said, stealing a kiss from her mouth, feeling her go pliant and soft under the swipe of his tongue.

"Give me a minute, and I'm going to need one." Steve's voice, a little frayed at the edges, came up from behind them. Natasha flopped over to one side of Bucky, curling up against his side again, and there for all to see was Steve Rogers, leaning on the wall with his flushed, rock hard cock in hand.

Shameless, guileless, and utterly wanton Steve was going to take some getting used to… but Natasha didn't think it would take her long.

Even as sated as he was, Bucky was practically salivating at the sight. And Natasha felt a whole new thrill of arousal bubble up low in her stomach. It was clear by the translucent state of his underwear, and the flush that had spread all the way up his chest, he'd been watching them for awhile.

"Why don't you give _me_ a minute." Natasha taunted, rolling onto her back and spreading her legs to show him her blushing pussy still slick with Bucky's come. "Then we can all have that shower." She touched herself for good measure, watching Steve's pupils dilate at the sight.

"Yeah, Steve." Bucky said, drawing her other hand up to his mouth so he could delicately suck on her fingers. "I was trying to get her to tell me what you're like when you wake up horny. But she got distracted." He bit down lightly on a fingertip, making her moan aloud in surprise.

Steve blushed an even darker shade of red at the sight. Natasha couldn't help but imagining what he was seeing. Her and Bucky both, blissed out. Fucked out. Messy and languid, but still managing to be teases. She reached out her hand and he came to her easily, falling between her legs and sliding his full length into her pussy with an expert's practiced aim. 

The swift press of him into her body chased all the air out of Natasha's lungs. She coiled around him as if on instinct. Everything but her left arm, two fingers of which still occupied Bucky's ridiculously hot mouth. Steve rolled his body, a thrust that seemed to come all the way from his curling toes, flattening her to the mattress.

Bucky smiled wickedly between her fingers, teeth grazing on her knuckles as he spoke. "Jesus, you weren't kidding. He is pushy, Natasha."

"She feels so good, Buck." Steve groaned, pressing against her face cheek to cheek so he could see Bucky's face too. 

"I got to feel how she is in the morning." Bucky whispered, something fond and filthy in his voice. "After she's already had one working over. She's so slick and tight."

"So slick and tight." Steve echoed. "And warm, God, I just…" the words shattered as he redoubled his pace, chasing the arousal that was growing in tandem between them. 

Something about being talked about like this… being appraised and approved as they both took their turns. It had her whole body singing with something like an electric current that zipped faster and faster, making her head spin.

"My clit, Steve, please." she felt herself breathlessly begging.

"Oh… allow me." Bucky said, rolling to his side and slipping his hand between them. He found her clit right where their bodies pistoned together. "Like this?"

It was Steve that answered, when Natasha couldn't find enough coherency to do more than nod. "Yeah… just little circles."

Every thrust pushed a high thin moan from Natasha as she wound tighter and tighter around Steve's thick cock. And Bucky's clever fingers slipping over her swollen clit was all she needed to tip past the edge.

They came together, gasping and groaning like they were dying, and Bucky watched it all with rapt, delighted attention. And as they wound down, he gathered them both up in his one arm, pulling them into a tight knot of limbs and kisses just as they had been the night before. For a short while, no one spoke. They just basked in the mid-morning afterglow, breathing in tandem and tangling together once more. 

"We do have a briefing to get to." Steve said finally, rolling to his back. Though nothing about his posture or action made it seem like this was anything he wanted to do. He pulled both Bucky and Natasha to him until they were bracketed together against his side like books on a shelf.

"Can't the world save itself for once?" Natasha whined, hiding her face against Steve's chest.

"Y'know… I'd be all about that except they've already sent Sam ahead of us."

Natasha groaned and shook her head, but a smile painted her kiss-reddened lips. "Ugh, fine."

"Yeah, you have to go to at least make sure he doesn't get himself killed." Bucky said, propping his chin on her shoulder. "Or at least to go watch it happen and eat popcorn." 

Natasha snorted and took a wild swing behind her, managing to pop him across the ribs as Steve shoved him playfully.

"Hey, one arm over here, and you're both laying on it! No fair."

"Mm." Natasha pushed up to lean across Steve and capture Bucky's lips with hers. "Something tells me you like being ganged up on."

His mouth curved into a handsome smile. "It's like you think you know me." He teased.

"I imagine better every day." she said, matching his grin as she pulled herself out of bed. "Come on. This is fun, but even I have limits on how long I can wait for coffee."

"Agreed. Coffee sounds great." Steve said raising up and following her, pulling Bucky by the hand after him. "And then we can go save the world."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from the poem "Distance is Ended" by Kathleen Raine.
> 
> Come scream at/with me on Tumblr at @littlethingwithfeathers.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates coming on Mondays!
> 
> Come flail with me on Tumblr at @littlethingwithfeathers.


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